Some days, grief hums softly. Other days, it crashes like a storm

I made it through another day. 
Today felt better. 
I still get those random spells where I want to cry, but I think I’m cried out.

Today was Badger’s appointment with the psychologist.
I stayed home and enjoyed a quiet house.
Hey, I’m essentially a hermit. 
I love my family, but I also love my alone time.

It appears we have settled into a pattern of afternoon storms followed by evening rain, which made today an inside day.

I watch way too much TV, play far too much online Mahjong, and spend too much time staring at old blog entries.
My head feels stuffed with cotton and a little achy tonight.

I had to go back and forth with the doctor’s office, and Cowboy’s appointment still isn’t showing correctly on the patient portal. 
The notice about his lab work came very late, almost at the last minute, and of course the results take about a week to come back.
 At first they couldn’t reschedule him until July, which felt too far away. 
Thankfully, they were able to fit him in at the end of June at the branch here in town, which is at least closer and sooner.
He also has another appointment in early June with a different doctor. 
I don’t think the two things are connected, but I wanted to be sure the doctors had all the information.

Cowboy wants the kitchen floor fixed before his appointment. 
That’s… yeah. 
I’m not looking forward to it. 
He’s usually cranky when he remodels, expects trained helpers, and Badger and I don’t exactly qualify. With how much he’s hurting lately, I expect he’ll be even crankier. 
I think all these appointments have him bracing for bad news.
 He wants the work done just in case, so we’re not falling through the kitchen floor. 
Odds are good, though, that the test just wasn’t done right. 
He’s been dealing with health concerns for years, and it’s a fair bet nothing new will turn up.

I think Uncle’s passing shook him more than he lets on. 
 I can tell it rattled him good. 
There was only about a fourteen‑year gap between him and Uncle, and that isn’t much at all.

The cat lady brought that black cat back, missing half an ear and spayed.
She had been in heat, not pregnant.
That cat shot out of the cage like a rocket, straight to Blue House across from the mailboxes garage.
The storm hit almost as soon as the woman pulled out.
Terrible way to welcome a cat back to the neighborhood.
I wish we could trap the other two cats I feed, but you can’t put a trap in my yard.
You’ll end up catching an angry raccoon, and no one wants to deal with that.
On the other hand, we don’t want kittens all over the place either.

Looks like I’m heading up to Uncle’s on Saturday. 
The plan is to go through all the papers, see if anything’s needed like insurance or titles, toss the junk, and let the town take the house.

With all this rain, that house will be knee‑deep in water, with hardly a roof left to stop it. 
The smell was awful last week, and I don’t even want to imagine how much worse it will be now.

My cousin says she wants to pay the delinquent taxes on my great-aunt’s lot and put a small house there.
She’s tired of being a nomad and wants to settle down.
She’s planning to talk to her male companion about paying the delinquent taxes on my uncle’s lot and moving into the house.
Well, I sure hope she shows him the pictures of that house.
That house is a complete teardown.

And it’s in a historical district, so there may be restrictions on what you can build.

I always said it would be a cold day in Hades before I moved back to that town. 
But never say never. 
They’ve got everything we don’t have here, all within walking distance. 
Meanwhile, here you’ve got to get in the car and drive forever just to grab a fancy coffee.
As a non-driver, the thought of being independent -taking myself to the doctor, going shopping, even grabbing coffee-is so tempting. 
Still, it’s a moot point. 
I’m not leaving Cowboy, and Cowboy’s not leaving the town he grew up in.

When I was young, I couldn’t wait to escape that town. 
Escape the narrow-minded people. 
The judgmental people. 
I thought I’d never look back. 
But getting older changes the way you see things. 
That same town, the one I ran from, had everything you could need within walking distance: a theater, stores, restaurants, doctors, even a vet. 
Out here, you’ve got to drive twelve miles just to grab a coffee, and I can’t even do that. 
Suddenly, that little town doesn’t look so bad after all.

I think I’m chattered out.
Time to go back to yelling at the home-buying shows.
Coming from a poor girl who has to share one bathroom with, like, eight people, double vanities aren’t important if you’ve got an en suite.
Just be glad you’ve got an en suite.