My cats don’t know they’re going to die

Contemplating my own mortality at 10:11 p.m. on a Thursday when I should be sleeping and will surely regret it tomorrow but I can’t sleep anyhow so whatever

cottage 3

I find myself drifting into melancholy lately. Part of it is probably because everything is all verklumpt at work – new CEO, new VPs, new boss. Most of what I loved about my job was the people I worked with, especially my boss but he is not my boss anymore.

I need to find a new job but I don’t want to look for a new job because it’s hard and I don’t feel like doing anything hard. I thought I was done with hard.

(OK you may laugh at that because how dumb is that to think you ever get to a point in your life where you don’t have to do hard things?)

Everything is changing.

Have I mentioned I hate change?

Except I want to escape my life now. Which would be change. But – it would be change I choose, right? And that makes all the difference.

I think the other part of it is that for me, summer is over.

We were robbed of a decent May and June and then early July was hectic. We had a chance to visit the Museum of the American Military Family, which is the very first time in my life I have ever seen my life represented in some way outside of actually living my life. (Except for Major Dad, of course.)

The lives of military brats don’t show up in popular culture. This museum is just a small collection in what used to be someone’s house but there are archives dating back 100 years – diaries military brats and spouses wrote about their lives and artifacts that I recognized – beer steins from Germany – and many I didn’t.

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The woman who runs the museum stepped out for a second and left Marido and me alone. I burst into tears. I still don’t know why.

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I, too, shined my father’s shoes.

We went on vacation in mid July and – now we’re done.

There is nothing to look forward to.

Even vacation didn’t have all that we wanted. That first photo of the water? It’s of the same dock as the header photo for this blog. But the front half of the dock has been washed away. Lake Superior doesn’t care about what people build.

We had our vacation, which, even without half of the dock, was lovely, but it’s over. And now there is nothing ahead of us but winter and death.

Honestly. That’s what it looks like from here. Winter. Cold. Then death.

cottage 2

 

4 thoughts on “My cats don’t know they’re going to die

  1. I know about change. The law firm I worked at dissolved and I’m in a new position. Not sure yet if I like it. But it keeps me up nights debating if I want to change yet again.

    Like

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