Sad, I have been crying while reading this series of posts. Every week, every day, I have to decide whether to get up and take care of things. Every day, I do. But now it's a weekend. That's when I allow myself to come here. Everyone's posts remind me of things that have happened to me, feelings that I have had. Human contact - some of my coworkers have never mentioned Ed's death. But my next-door neighbors, whom I barely knew, have surprised me. After weeks, I finally steeled myself to ring their doorbell and tell them about Ed. They had been taking care of his pepper plant. To my dismay, I broke down as soon as I said anything. They invited me in for tea. They never ring my doorbell, but they are always welcoming and helpful when I ring theirs. Who knows where the good people are?
I smiled at your cats. One of the first things I did to occupy my evenings was volunteer at a cat shelter. The cats are under and on top of the furniture. Most won't let me pet them, but I like dangling my keys in front of them. They lie on their backs and bat at them, or pounce as I drag them across the floor. It's good that you have her cats, isn't it?
Hugs, Pilla