On Screaming and Silence and All that Jazz

I know, I know...I've been too quiet lately. But... I've been busy...and life got messy...and, and,...the squeaky wheel got the grease. The wheel, of course, was that freakin' mouse that invaded my pantry and taunted me from his perch of paper towels, laughing, laughing all the while...as I shivered with heebeejeebees and screamed like a mad woman, "Get out of my house, you stupid rat! Get out of my pantry!!!" Still...he sat there...c-o-m-p-l-e-t-e-l-y unphased. Mouse murder is an awful experience, eclipsed solely by the thought of mouse poo on my food.

But my pantry got a remodel. [:-D]

As for my silence? Honestly, I haven't wanted to name this which has kept me from posting. Words weigh heavily on my spirit, and putting this in print seems so finite, like a judgement, or a "sentence" of sorts.

Simon will likely develop hip dysplasia.

There it is.

I've said it.

I've finally allowed these fingers to declare that which my heart wishes most to ignore...but I can't ignore this anymore. Not really. Because Simon now takes fish oil capsules several times per day to prolong his joint health, as well as glucosamine and chondroitin (which may or may not help). So I am reminded of that dreadful possibility at least three times per day. And I am reminded every time he climbs up and down my stairs to empty his bladder and bowels...those damned, dreadful steps. If I could pick up my family and move to a ranch-style house on a flat lot (all money aside), I would. Truly. In a heartbeat.

So you see, I just couldn't update. I needed time to process. I need time to breathe in, to breathe out. I needed time to look at my previous post again and again and again, at that beautiful portrait, those poignant words, and to revel in that post's purity a while longer, to revel in the beauty, the surreal perfection of my relationship with Simon...untouched, unblemished...for just a little longer.