Thursday 20 November

We went from very mild to wintry cold. My usual jacket isn't quite warm enough anymore. Last night for our dog walk, I pulled out my warmest parka. Too soon in the year for that coat, I was thinking, what will I do when it's depth of winter cold? Winter is just plain hard. Everything is hard in the winter. My old parka is about 10 years old. I bought it that first winter on my own, in that first apartment, that cold apartment with the rattly windows letting in the wind, and that I taped newspaper to. How hard it was then. I had a memory of that hardness this morning when I got up in the dark and opened the back door to let out Fergus. Back then I had to walk him, 5 or 6 times a day. We had no yard at that place. And so I bought the parka, for those cold, dark early morning and last thing at night walks. Then, as now, I put up the hood and snapped it tight and felt safely insulated from the cold, dark world.

This morning I am hating the cats. Hating them. It happened after I went to bed, and Nick went on a destructive foray through the kitchen. He knocked stuff over and spilled food on the floor. I got up and came out here,and I yelled, boy did I yell. And again this morning, their annoying selves, growling, yowling, running all over, jumping, climbing. I hate them and I told them so. I hate them.

And then asked God to forgive me my destructive, fiery emotions. Because in truth it is what I feel. My frustration at the burdens of my life, but also my sense that it is hard to keep anything nice with these destructive little animals around. I am at the point where I think -- NO MORE CATS EVER. And one dog. Then I remember Matthew, and what a gentle, simpleminded love he is, and I could have one cat like him. Or one cat like Maya, out all day, in at night, grateful for the food and shelter. Inca is okay, and Sophia. But the rest of them can go straight to hell. The rest of them are here because of M, of wanting to please her. Topaz was a birthday gift, and the rest of those fucking little Papayas are here because she brought Maya in, and the whole sad saga continues.

Thursday and I am feeling so tired and flat. The old workhorse would really like to bite, would certainly snap, at any hand coming too nearby. I have had it. I am done pulling the concrete load up the hill behind me. But I am not done. It is only Thursday and I will not be set free from my burdens for 2 days yet. And I am trying not to think that I need to buy an 18lb. bag of dog food today, and add that to my uphill load. I am trying not to think about it. No thinking. Just keep moving. Just keep walking on and eventually all will be done.

But for now-----------

Need I repeat again that work is very busy -- no. I am beginning to OD on fragrances. I avert my face as much as I can when I am repairing candles with the heat gun. I have a sore throat at work from all the scents. I drunk pu erh tea constantly. And there, like here, I just keep moving, just keep focused on the task and don't think too much.

I don't like coming home in the dark. I feel drained and depleted by then.