Insomnia sucks.

Well I am currently in my second hour of insomnia, I've been awake since about 3:00 a.m. because my micro-bladder woke me up, and then of course the dog followed me and wanted to go outside, then I had to put my foot into the snow by mistake and froze it, which annoyed me, and then I had to get a drink of water. I lay back down again, only to discover by this time that my stomach had awakened, wanting something to munch on, so of course I had to get up and get some of that yummy chicken salad in the fridge that Pete made for us for lunch today...and of course the dog followed me and wanted to help me eat it. Then I lay down again, and was very close to falling back asleep when suddenly Pete's son came in at 4:15 a.m., which woke the dog up, which of course woke ME up again, and I had to let her out of the bedroom so she could go greet him. I lay down again only to have to get UP again to close the door after she pushed it open to return to her favorite sleep-spot, underneath the foot of our bed. Then Pete rolled over, and I swear he's like a friggin' radiator, so his arm touched mine and I felt like it was on fire. I had nowhere else to put MY arm, either, so I tried to put my arms above my head, but that didn't work very well, turned on my side, and THAT didn't make anything better, and hey guess what, NOW the stupid acid reflux decided to kick in full force, so of course I had to get UP again to go downstairs, to get my TUMS. I figured "SCREW THIS" and grabbed my pillow, shut the bedroom door behind me so that my stupid dog wouldn't follow me again, and I came downstairs to sleep in my own bedroom (while I still HAVE a bedroom of my own in this apartment...for three more weeks), and then I lay down in what I thought would be a peaceful return to slumber, only to realize my brain won't shut off, I should have brushed my teeth again after eating that chicken salad, the onions in it are now making my acid reflux kick in more, and I might as well get up and sit my ass in front of the computer.

So here I am.

This is the big packing weekend here at the apartment. I am currently surrounded by boxes everywhere, newspaper strewn about, markers, packaging tape, and chaos. Next weekend we are going to the home show, (it was actually Pete's idea), so that I can get even MORE decorating ideas to SHELVE while I'm in San Francisco for 3-6 months. Well, technically, we don't know yet if we're going, or if I'm staying here and Pete's going alone, but I have the feeling that we are both going, and I'm feeling anxious about that. Part if me wants Pete to go without me, as he was saying we might come back at the end of May to go to Camp again like we did last year when we met, but we'd have to KENNEL THE DOG while we're gone, and that just worries me, I don't know if I want to leave my dog in California while I come clear across the country for a week's vacation, I'd be worried sick about her the whole time. I suggested flying her back with us to have his son take care of her at our new house while we're here, but that might prove to be too expensive, and she may be a nervous wreck flying in an airplane, I don't know. Do they even MAKE doggie Dramamine I wonder?!

The weekend after next is Pete's daughter-in-law's baby shower in Rochester NY but I don't think we'll be able to go with just one week before moving. We have a gift we can send her just in case we can't make it though. And that was also going to be the weekend where our current landlord takes a walk through to inspect the place, so we can get our security deposit back. And then, of course, March 14th will be here and Pete seems to think we'll get everything packed into the 26 foot truck AND unloaded at the new house, all in one day. Luckily, his daughter is bringing 5 other people to help us, all 20-something's, which means he will be in the truck unloading and handing stuff down to them, and I'll be inside the house directing where things will go. THEY can walk up and down the stairs and lug the heavy boxes!! Haleluyah!! I am so sick of moving, I can't even TELL YOU...I feel like I just GOT here, and I wasn't even fully UNpacked yet either, so now I gotta REpack everything all over again, and frankly it's something that I feel a real mental block about doing. But, I'm doing it, slowly, reluctantly, because I have no choice. I can't stand this house we currently live in because of the following reasons: (yes it requires a list)....

1. THE NOISE...we live on a busy 2-lane, main road, with an elementary school directly across the street. This school gets deliveries nearly every day from loud delivery trucks, either with food, or office supplies or some such nonsense, along with the yelling and honking horns of parents dropping off their precious snowflakes in the wee hours of the morning. We also get a lot of industrial traffic, with semi-trucks and dump trucks and construction vehicles---OH---and BUSES, lots and lots of BUSES all the time too.

2. The paper-thin walls upstairs. It's like camping outdoors every night when I sleep in Pete's bedroom. I can hear every little noise, and so can the dog, who likes to MURPH at every little noise--that's not quite a full-blown BARK, but a HALF bark-- which is enough to wake me up because (as you've probably figured out by my opening paragraph), I am a light sleeper. Every morning for the past week, the new guy who moved in next door decides to knock on the landlord's door, which is directly across from the window in Pete's bedroom, so of course I can hear THAT, and his latest complaint about his new abode, along with the 20-sonething guy who lives next door with his dog Dysis who likes to run away and have him chase him around yelling for him all the goddamned time...oh, and of course, car doors that slam, car locks that honk, etc.

3. The rattling window upstairs in Pete's bedroom. If there's just a tiny bit of wind, the window rattles back and forth making noise like someone banging on a door. The landlord, in his infinite wisdom, decided that putting PLASTIC on the windows would help that situation, but of course, it did not. In fact, the plastic on the windows doesn't even keep it WARM in there.

4. Which brings me to the next complaint, the heat in this house is screwy. Most of the time, heat RISES, correct? Well, not in THIS house. Keep in mind, this house was built in 1897, so apparently back then they had the heat stay on the first floor for some reason, making the upper floors freeze. Of course, when Pete opens up the huge wall vent in his bedroom, then THAT room becomes an instant FURNACE, making us both sweat while we sleep. But if you dare go to the rug-less tiled kitchen in your bare feet, woe is you my friend, woe is you because your toes will freeze off, because the rest of the place is like ICE.

5. The mold on the walls down in the basement...and the RADON that is specified in our lease. Yes, did I mention I have seasonal ASTHMA, which can be aggravated by mold and other such things?? Well, we saw in our current lease that this house has RADON that we breathe in on a daily basis---which could account for my subsequent bouts of insanity since living here-- and so I never go to the basement to do laundry. Instead, we have to lug it all down into the car, drive a few miles to the nearest laundry mat, and sink $20 into the washers and dryers every time, because we only do laundry once a week. (At the new house, we'll HAVE a washer and dryer in the NICE basement, that will be FREE)!!

6. The kids next door. They are sweet young girls, really they are, and they love Sassy, and she loves them. But when they bring their neighborhood buddies over to play in MY backyard, I want to yell GET OFF MY LAWN all the time. I had wanted to build some kind of gate to keep them out, but that never happened. I mean, I moved here in September, unpacked through October, it started snowing in November, and that just pretty much put the kabash on THAT idea. In fact, we get people walking in our front yard all the time too, and it bugs me a lot.

7. Our driveway. The people in this neighborhood seem to think our driveway is public domain, for them to park in anytime they need to. This has been a HUGE annoyance to us all, since there are 3 of us with 3 cars in one long driveway, and we have to play "musical cars" a lot, to move around each other. When a total stranger's car is parked at the END of our driveway and NONE of us can get out, well, you can imagine our dismay. I've left a note on somebody's car once, asking them nicely not to park there anymore, only to receive the note back on MY car the next morning, telling me "they've parked in this driveway for the past 2 years and have never had any problems so SCREW YOU," to which I replied, "Fine, park wherever you like, I'll just have it TOWED next time, at your expense. Have a nice day you fucking HAG." Yeah, people in the 'burgh are REAL friendly.

8. I've never had a key to my apartment. And the landlord and his cronies next door seem to like walking into our front door foyer whenever they like, since THEY all have keys to OUR place, and they often leave the basement door open so they can do laundry down there, which allows the wafting of the MOLD on the walls to creep up into MY living space, causing us to cough like we're 3-pack-a-day smokers. It'll be interesting to see if Pete and I no longer cough at the new house when we move. Here, we are constantly coughing, hacking, blowing our noses...I swear we're allergic to this place.

9. Let's see, what else...hmmm...my toilet is quirky, you have to pull the handle back up after you flush, otherwise it'll overflow. Pete's toilet doesn't do that, just mine. But his toilet SEAT is like a brick of ice at night when you sit on it, so that makes up for the handle quirk. Oh, and our drains get clogged all the time in the kitchen and the tubs and sinks in the bathrooms, so that's even MORE fun to deal with. We use Liquid Plumber all the damned time, but everything still clogs.

10. Nowhere to walk the dog. I do take Sassy for walks, along the side walk, and crossing the busy road with cars everywhere, and when school is out for the day, I sometimes take her back behind it to the grassy area to play fetch with some sticks, but mostly it's just a quick walk down to the local city hall, where she appropriately deposits a load of CRAP on their doorstep, as her favorite place to crap. I find that to be slightly amusing, wanting so badly to leave it there for some politician to slip and fall in on their way out. But, I bring dog clean up bags with me. God forbid I should get a TICKET there for my dog crapping on their lawn. That just seems to be the only place she likes to crap, I can't help that!!

So, those are the top 10 reasons I'll be glad to move the hell OUT of this place, and into a nice house of our own. It's so quiet there, there's no street or car noise, the neighbors are not within a stone's throw of our front door, and there's plenty of room to spread out and enjoy the peace and quiet too. I'm looking forward to that. But Pete, in HIS infinite wisdom, told me that we'll probably get sent to San Francisco, and most likely there will be street noise wherever they have us live. GRRRR. Just what I needed to hear, thanks so much. He joked the other day, telling me I should call my student loan people and tell them that "I am currently unemployed and MOOCHING OFF THIS GUY, so I can't pay them anything right now unless I do graphic sexual favors for him to get my monthly allowance." He thought that was funny, but the word MOOCHING put me off quite a bit. In fact, it's been weighing heavily on my mind ever since he said it. There's always a little bit of truth in every joke, so it bothers me to think that he actually thinks that about me, even in a joking manner. I have GOT to get a job. My resume is fading into oblivion every day that I'm not working, and that really truly bothers me a lot. It's like, for the first time in my life, I've been putting all my "eggs" into one "basket," letting HIM pay my bills, when I have always been the one to do that, and I've always had my own money, my own job, my own daily routine...my independence. I am more DEpendent now than I've ever cared to be, and that worries me. I don't want to be like that.

His idea is that we'll eliminate all of my debts, get my credit rating improved, and then get married so we can buy the house together. His credit is on hold right now with his alimony going to his first wife for 2 more years, and his Chapter 13 issues because of his second wife---yeah, they both fucked him up royally, which is why I don't want to be considered yet another "mooch" of a woman in his world, ya know?? So, we can't buy a house right now, we can only rent it...but within the next 2 years, we should have no problems, and my credit will be back to a much better level than it is now, and life will work out for us both eventually. He suggested getting married in 2010, or at the latest, 2011. I'll be 41 years old this year. I don't really like the idea of waiting, but then again, he doesn't like the idea of the blowjobs dwindling down to never after the nuptuals either...which seems to be how it works, he says. I don't get it, because I actually LIKE giving BJ's, but he swears after a woman has a ring on her finger, the BJ's fade into oblivion, and so does sex. Maybe that's why he hasn't given me a ring yet, even though I protest and tell him I'm NOT those other women, and I LIKE BJ's and sex and THEY were vanilla, I'm NOT, and I have to have that stuff to LIVE, whereas they didn't need it because they didn't know what to do with it and didn't enjoy it. Sometimes I think he forgets that I'm submissive, a totally different breed from the vanilla hags he once knew.

We went to the local dungeon the other night, and I got caned into oblivion, which has become my favorite thing lately. It doesn't take much, and once I'm over the initial threshold of stinging pain, which lasts all of 5 minutes or less, then I don't even flinch or move, or make a sound. I just soak it in, and fly away, and I'm GONE GONE GONE for hours at a time. He loves it, apparently, when I fall over onto the couch that he sits me on afterwards, wrapped in a warm blanket, zonked out of my gourd. I think he finds it "sweet." I don't even know where I am at, or what my name is, but he seems to find it adorable.

Why the hell did I have to eat a chicken salad sandwich at 3:30 a.m.?? My stomach is bothering me now, and the TUMS don't seem to be working very well. Dammit. I guess I'd better go take some more, and try to lay down and get some sleep. It's 6 a.m. now, I'm on my third hour of insomnia, and it's not fun. My brain was so overwhelmed today, I was exhausted when we went to bed. Now I can't get my stupid brain to shut off. Too much to do, too many thoughts rolling about, too many things happening too fast...I feel discombobulated and frazzled.

Bye for now.

Love, Sassy Girl