I don't want a new version of Blogger

It's NOT easy to switch. If it were "easy," I wouldn't have to do ANYTHING. I don't WANT A GOOGLE ACCOUNT.

*sigh*

Anybody else with OS Tiger forever hitting the F13 key and bringing up your calendar and calculator and other things when you mean to hit "delete"? Yeah. Good times. We're brothers now.

Anyway.

Yeah so I haven't posted in a while. I have had ideas, but not the inclination to flesh them out. Here's one:
It's an amazing day when you realize you don't have to meet anyone's expectations, not even your own. (Except to, you know, keep your job, not land in jail, have shelter, things like that.) Realizing you really are in charge of your life. It takes a long time for that to really sink in. Like years.

* * *

Today I feel kinda down, at least since leaving work. Not sure why. Maybe just postmenstrual. Maybe because I didn't want to do freelance, but it seems to be coming my way. Maybe tired of the same old same old. Go home, exercise, feed the cats, do work, give butter and medicine, clean litter boxes, have half an hour to "enjoy" before going to bed. Alternate the first two segments with "go grocery shopping." Blech. Maybe I'm worried about what to do if Otter is still on medicine when I go to Florida. Maybe worn down by the fact that he's up to peeing on the floor once or twice a day again, when something had him down to once a week after the Christmas party. Also, my apartment is COLD and I just want it to be safe and warm and cheaper and I probably won't find another one and will have to stay in this bank-account drain for another year. But I do love my backyard. Rock and a hard place, party of one. (Or six.)

Maybe looking at skirted tankinis, knowing I'll probably never be able to go back to regular swimsuit bottoms again. But I did find out I weigh less than Tyra Banks! Howsabout THAT!

Maybe the well-settled-in feeling that I will never find true love or near-true love or reasonably undeceitful love or please don't bother telling me "You will! It will happen! He's out there!" because I just don't want to hear it anymore. I don't know how to be anything but alone, and that's all there is. I don't feel like going out and joining things because I'm SICK AS HELL OF DOING IT ALONE and that's all there is to it.

Everyone is having babies and buying houses and getting cats and dogs and it's one of them new-beginning cycle times that I will just get to watch pass me by again. And I am OK with that, as far as it goes. New beginnings can come from sad endings.

But right now, being alone feels like it's just wearing me down into a flatness. I'll probably be all right tomorrow, but right now I'm going to let it all out and not care who hears me.

So here's hoping Salem doesn't have a concussion from when he leapt up onto the counter smack into the stack of cat dinner dishes in my hand. Y'all have a good night.