I called off work last Friday because my right ankle hurt so bad I could barely walk. I could barely get from the daybed to the half-bath and the daybed is only a couple of steps away from the half-bath. I hated to call off. One I hated not being there to do my job. Two I really can't afford to miss a day of work like that.
Now it's Monday and I'll need to go into work tonight ready or not. The ankle is feeling better but it's still hurting. I think I may have re-injured it at work. I hurt on top of just being flat out exhausted. I slept nearly the entire weekend except for getting up long enough to eat, relieve myself and play a little Farmville 2.
I have farmer fantasies where I look outside and can't see my neighbors, breath fresh air instead of car exhaust and factory smog, where my home is my own and I have painted the walls colors I like and don't have to wait for the landlord to feel like fixing something.
But my daughter came up from her room and made breakfast this morning. She has no idea how much I appreciate something like that. I know she hates to do dishes, but it's one less thing for me to stress about when she does. Taking care of those little household chores for me without being asked lifts so much weight from my shoulders. I really hate to have to nag to get her to do something. And I hate it even more when it gets to the point I'm ready to get rid of her cat because that would be one less thing I would have to worry about taking care of.
She's pretty good about looking after Echo herself on some things. She remembers to feed him, she plays with him and has gotten better at keeping him brushed. But sometimes I have to yell about the litter box getting too full. It's in the half-bath which I uses everyday so I look at his litter box everyday. I know immediately when it needs attention. And it irritates me greatly to have to remind her to come clean it.
I have enough to worry about with just trying to keep us from being homeless. I don't want to come home beat all to hell from work and then have to look at a dirty cat-box while I'm relieving myself and nag to get a few dishes done or the trash taken out. I just want to come home and chill.
It would be nice to be able to go to a doctor because on top of the right ankle hurting to the point I'm limping, trying not to limp, or not walking on it at all because it hurts too bad, I've also been sick with chronic diarrhea, bouts of nausea, vomiting, lightheadedness and dizziness. But I don't have any health coverage so I just get to endure until either whatever is wrong with me fixes itself or kills me.
In the mean time I just want to come home and chill while we still have a home.
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