Coffee and Breakfast

This is several hours behind the actual event, however I am running out of time quickly as it took me more than eight hours to clean up after some troll illegally entered my home while I was at work.

And, you wonder why I won’t marry an orange t-shirt?!

Oh, yeah, not to mention the enormous zit that appeared between the top part of my butt cheeks.  Right, where my G-string panties would make contact.

YGTBFKM!

You Got To Be Fucking Kidding Me!

To say I am miserable would be less than an understatement.

Fucking pissed about the clean up!

Unbearably sad that my cats were taken away from me.  I want my Tuesday and Thursday back!

Do you know when my brother left with my cats in his car, I called him back immediately.  He wasn’t gone a few minutes before he came back.  I wanted to tell him how unhappy and what a mistake it was to allow “Kat” to cat-sit for my cats while I went to San Francisco for a few days.

I wanted my brother and people to know how upset I was that I was talked into allowing “Kat” to cat-sit by “Marvin” at The Container Store.  It felt wrong at the time, and it proved to be a bad decision.

When my brother returned the cats were not making any yowling or crying noises in the car.  I believed at the time, they had already been handed off to a neighbor.  It is what I believed.  The Bluetooth knew it.  So, of course it devastated me to read that my brother sent them to the pound.  When I went to the pound for answers I heard a crying baby in a car that sounded fake.  I believe all of this has been people finding ways to send my driving in my car #1 To watch me from the hidden cameras in the car, #2 To have the radio on, so people can watch me with audio.

So, of course, I am beyond consolable.  I am beyond over the real damage people do to me just so they can watch my real tears.

The last time I saw my mother alive, my real mother was at a dentist appointment the nursing home set up for her.  She wore a purple shirt that was not anything I bought her, or had left at the nursing home.

Do you know I no longer FEEL emotions.  I no longer have the emotions attached to memories.  Memories like my mother.  Just a few short years ago and they are all gone.  Like a light turned off.  Severed.  It is a terrible thing to allow to happen to a person.  Years and years, and decades of memories – shut off.

And, you wonder why friendship or communication between David or James could never again be possible, for they are linked to the terrible-ness that has happened to me in the last few years.

My mother wore a purple shirt, she was happy to see me which was her norm.  The midget of a dentist I never understood.  He did not look like a dentist to me.  My mother’s teeth had never looked better.  I told my brother they had to have sedated her to get her teeth so clean.  I know what it was like trying to get her to brush.  She did not like it.

I never should have given up caring for her even if it killed me.  This life is nowhere near worthwhile.  My mother would be ashamed of me and the state that I am in physically.  Unable to take care of myself.  I am ashamed of myself.

Very few things can truly compare even less can truly be replaced.  People – well, since I am not allowed in the real world it is difficult to say that people can be replaced.  I have not been allowed to replace the men in my life.  I have not been allowed to move on with my life even though all of the other men have been able to have women.  How could I ever look at anyone I once knew the same again?!

The dentist visit with my mother was very strange.  Not to mention the GPS in my phone that never got me to the correct location, just so I would be very late to the appointment.  Straws.  My brother made a mention about getting straws of different colors which was odd.  There was a blood drive bus in the parking lot.

Writing to my mother while waiting for her bus outside, I remember the wind blowing my hair.

I don’t feel her anymore.  I don’t feel my mother or connected to the memories anymore which is a terrible sin and crime.

This mediocre banana bread is why I started writing today.  Here’s what it needs, a kind of glaze to go on top.  Nutella cut with maple syrup, chopped peanuts, chopped walnuts, fresh sliced banana, then sprinkled with cinnamon sugar.  But, not the plain cinnamon you get at the grocery store, I want the cinnamon with real flavor.  I used to have a cinnamon tree.  I know the difference.  Maybe some fresh-cut strawberries to help balance the palate.  Served with a generous sized latte, followed by an espresso.  Then, I might deem it palatable.  Then, it might be acceptable.  But, it’s not right now.

Plus, I am tired of not being allowed lotion for my dry skin, and I cannot stand lanolin and grease in my soap either!