kvetching up

 Entry 1   2:13 p.m. Jenny's friend Jeanne, who apparently thinks I am terrible to Jenny, (I've read the texts) is here visiting. I have always liked her.  She is one of the therapist friends who was giving Jenny advice after I found out about the affair.

 Entry 1.    5:11 p.m. Up since 4:33. Tinnitus ringing in my ear, drowning out the stillness. 

 Entry 1     8:42 a.m.  I am in my office. Many people around, all from my team, waiting for the staff meeting to start. I am excited to gtfo of here.  The commute took 45 minutes--I can do it in 10 on a Sunday.  I don't miss coming to the office. I am glad to see other human beings that I work with, IRL, however.  I showered, shaved and brushed my hair this morning, a chore I do less frequently at home since the advent of COVID-19 work from home mandates. I am surprised I could tame the wild shock of hair on my head given that the last time it was cut the leaves had not even started to change color, nor the night become so much longer that it was noticeable.  I am filled with a sense of dread today for what is coming. I looked at the horizon, filled with Seattle skyscrapers as I was driving in, and was struck by the indifference of the universe . Dansul Mortii, Guy Marchand, 1485. I think having our own danse macabre in the form of this canc...

  Entry 1     7:48 a.m. I woke up at 6:00 a.m. to a dog scratching at my bedroom door.  Because I am leaving for a week on Monday to backpack in the North Cascades, Jenny wanted the dogs with her last night as practice and to allow them to get used to being with her at night. She crated Willow but not Buddy, apparently. Depending on the night, he may or may not share Willow's crate. While Jenny had her door closed, many rooms in our home have cat openings in the doors, and pudgy little Buddy somehow manages to fit through them.  I took him out to the bathroom while Jenny remained asleep.  I bring him in, he has some water and it's back to bed.  For about 10 minutes. Buddy fits through this opening somehow . At 6:20, as per usual, Willow is alive, alert, awake,  enthusiastic.  I climb out of bed, pull my Levis on, and walk to Jenny, who is just opening the door. She gives me a disdainful look as Willow, freed from her crate, dashes to my...

Jenny text from Dec 9, 2020. Angry with me because I won't accept that she is seeing  Eric el pinché motherfucker.  She had driven off under on the influence of Xanax, THC AND Rick Simpson oil.  She eventually came home.