Coming Along

I've been having the usual problems of moving in that my internet wasn't working, TV cable is not hooked up yet, printer won't work, etc. Nevertheless, I work hard every day to organize my surroundings, and I am pretty well settled. I even have my stained glass windows installed together in the one usable living room window. It was amazing that they fit the new windows, since Joanne made them specifically for the other house. I think they look quite spectacular.

Two things have kept me on edge and unable to totally throw myself into the more pleasant tasks at hand. Lytton has continued to be sick, and the lump I found on his side exploded with blood a few days ago. I called Dr. Cloutier, who put my mind at rest as always. He said it must have been an absess from an injury in a dog fight and prescribed antibiotics. For two days he was his old self, but today he was shivering and lethargic, obviously in pain. I called the local vet and took him there on an emergency basis. A hundred dollars later he was pronounced in good health from stem to stern. I was given pain medication for him with the diagnosis of bruising from the absess. I had been giving him pain medicine, but stopped when he seemed to feel better...a stupid idea as it turns out. The relief I felt was well worth the money.

The second event that provoked tears of sentimentality and loss. I was told by Sue that I could not keep the chickens here as I had planned. That meant I had to find a new home for them. Every day that I went over to the old house to feed them I cried. They have been such a part of my life and even my identity (hence the name of this blog) that the thought of giving them up was almost unbearable. Luckily the mother of the man who bought Carrie's car has chickens. When I asked her to take mine, she was very willing. I agreed to help her get them in a box and into her car. When the time came, though, I found myself so emotional that I knew I couldn't do it without losing control of myself and sobbing like a baby. I called her back and asked her to get them without me, and she did.

That happened yesterday, and I'm still unable to think about them without getting tearful. I am over-sentimental in the extreme, and very melancholy about pieces of my life floating away behind me. I loved the chickens, and even more, I loved myself with the chickens.
It seems like a very significant change has taken place, another phase relegated to the past.

Well, I will soon get over them and move on ahead. It won't take long.