Well, as promised I was two hours early going to bed last night, crawling under the blankets and settling in for sleep–I was very tired–only to lie awake ‘till my usual sleeping time and drifting off a mere three hours before I had to get up to take Sita to the vet hospital where she had to get her eye-surgery.
I hate it when that happens. It totally defeats the purpose of going to bed early and I can’t stand lying awake, my mind awhirl and feeling all sorts of itches all over my body that have no business being there, but always come when I’m trying to sleep.
It is freezing cold when I wake, even my small, but strong heater can’t battle the temperatures outside when I drag myself out of bed and stumble to the door to let the dogs out into the sunny morning. The alarm, which I’ve forgotten to shut off, is still screeching by the time I stumble back and grab the infernal thing from the shelf and shut it off, before straightening the blankets and starting on the speedy morning ritual.
I’m not feeling too bad, on the overall, and manage to get dressed, move the dogs to the house and be ready for departure by the time big brother brings out Sita and deposits her in the car. The poor Cocker Spaniel doesn’t know what’s going on, and settles up against grandpa after we’ve shoved his moped on the truck-bed and head on out to the village. The moped is giving some trouble, and grandpa hopes that they can fix it during the day.
Sita is given a quick check when we arrive at the hospital, and when the young vet finishes, I ask if she can give the nervous twelve-year-old cocker a shot of morphine and relaxant so she won’t be so traumatized by being left there for the day.
The injection works within minutes and I carry the barely conscious dog to the back of the hospital where she is put in a cage until her surgery is supposed to commence.
Our regular vet has arrived by then, and we exchange a quick hello before I inquire about when we can come and pick Sita up. It is a relative simple surgery, I know. It will take our vet–who specializes in eye-surgery–and with the assurance that he’ll take care of Sita we leave for home.
Once there, I change into warmer clothes and head on to the house where my pack impatiently awaits my return in the cold courtyard.
Bunch of idiots. They could be sitting inside where it’s warm, but no. Can’t go in the house where they aren’t able to keep an eye on the carport and in effect my return. Some of them are actually shivering with both cold and excitement when I slip through the courtyard gate and shoo them inside.
Big brother is up, too, and for the next hour or so we go through the normal morning chores before, by the time we’re folding laundry we decide that we’re both really too tired and are dreading the day ahead considerably. We had planned to use this early start as a writing opportunity, but since we know that we need to go to school later tonight, sleep is imperative.
Discussing our options for a bit, and both of us being incredibly cold, we choose sleep and each head for our designated quarters with our packs in hot pursuit. My dogs appear thrilled as a matter of fact and soon settle down in their usual places as I crawl under the blankets and snuggle up against warm canine bodies to drift off to sleep for two more hours.
With the second awakening, I’m nicely revived and don’t bother with the morning rituals when I return to the main building where the heaters quickly make the temperatures bearable.
Since I’ve eaten French bread with lettuce, cherry tomatoes, red bell pepper, some cheese and a delicious yogurt sauce when I returned from the vet, I’m not hungry and just grab a cup of coffee while I set my computer up.
There won’t be time for writing today, I know, so instead I go online for some messages and chats before I need to scramble to get ready for school. Big brother’s hair has grown some during the past two weeks or so, so I use the trimmer to shave it all off again less then twenty minutes before we have to depart.
I’m surprised how well the “bald” look suits him. He used to wear his hair shoulder-length, but then, about seven months ago he decided that all the fuss was too much to bother with and asked me to shave it all off for the first time in ten years. The long hair looked well enough, I guess, but this isn’t bad either. I see a little Dominic Purcell (Prisonbreak’s Lincoln Burrows) in him and that’s a surprise. I’d doubted if the look would suit him, but luckily it does.
That done, I head on up to my cabin to dress in my school clothes and wobble my way to the car since I was stupid enough to don my high-heeled boots for a change. High-heels are really not a smart thing to wear on uneven mountain surfaces, but in town I do like to keep my feet familiar with the different pose that took me ages to get used to. The first few times felt like I was walking on shards of glass after just five minutes, and since that feeling has disappeared since then, I have no particular desire to repeat the acclimation period any time soon…if ever.
We head to town, the exact time we’re supposed to, arriving at school around six to start another tedious session of doing tests on paper. The dratted computers still haven’t been fixed, I fear. But it goes well. We manage four tests each, and I only had three wrong answers in total. Moving up, at least.
Butane kegs need to be acquired again, and since the place where they’re sold in town is already closed we head for the village where we’re supposed to pick up Sita, in hopes that there will be at least five kegs that should keep us warm for a few days.
Before heading for the hospital, we pop into the bazaar beside it to buy some plastic containers for the kitchen, a narrow garbage tube for the build-in disposal and some one-piece neck warmers for me. They’re so handy compared to the wrap-around shawls.
Five past eight, the exact time we were expected to come for Sita, I walk into the hospital and ask the vet how the operation went. All’s well and after I get the usual spiel about how to follow up on Sita’s treatment I take the poor Cocker to the car, where she immediately jumps into big brother’s arms and wants a solid petting.
Not much has changed for Sita, what with the removal of her second eye, but still, it is a sad thing to happen. Luckily Sita knows the house so well that she hardly ever knocks into anything and knows her way around by heart. She’s had practice, I guess. What with having been blind for almost three years, it’s only the pain of surgery that’s different. Luckily that can be dealt with through pain medication.
The butane supply in the village allows us to stock up for the next few days, and with that final task done we head back home, where Sita ecstatically throws herself at little brother who awaits our arrival in the car port.
Our purchases get moved into the house, and after I’ve once again dressed into warm house clothes I face my jubilant pack for the second time this day. No difference in their behavior. They act as if they haven’t seen me for a week as I struggle my way through them, trying to dodge the nips as bites of welcome from the labs and cockers, while Chaos throws his full weight against my hips time and again.
Little sister has made onion cheese rolls for dinner, and I add the same ingredients I used this morning to get my daily dose of veggies in before I settle down in the living area to catch my breath and watch some TV.
I can’t muster much energy for anything as I sit there, debating myself about doing something constructive with my time before we put on the latest recording of “Prisonbreak” and watch it through. Afterwards, big brother and I finally decide to try to get at least an hour’s work on the computer in.
The past few weeks have been horrid, work-wise. Constant distractions such as responsibilities and necessary tasks that need to be performed keep cutting into writing/editing hours, and it is frustrating as heck.
Since I want to work on my full-length thriller novel, big brother finally ventures into editing for something other than romance, and is pleasantly surprised by my completely different style in this story. Heck, he even compares it to Michael Crighton, which tickles my funny bone as he makes his way through four pages and I write down one of the book that already counts more than two-hundred pages, and still isn’t near it’s end.
By then the eve has come to its end, and I wrap things up to head out of the house and take my dogs to the cabin. The temperatures have dropped even more, and even though grandpa was thoughtful enough to switch my heater on almost an hour ago, making it bearable, I’m freezing by the time I feed the dogs, change into my pjs and set up my computer for the night.
Let’s hope that tomorrow will allow for more writing.
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