Mostly I want to sleep. It’s an avoidance strategy many depressed people employ, so it’s not surprising I want to go to sleep for the next week or so. ‘Wake me up when it’s over’ never sounded so good as when I’m selling my house.
I’m of course still taking my meds (and I will do so until the end of my days, I’m sure – or until a medical alternative is found), and I hate to think of what I would be acting like without those in my system.
Every morning after getting ready like we always do, we then commence making our house look like no one lives there. Nothing on the kitchen countertops, nothing on the bathroom sink except liquid soap that I don’t even like the smell of but the colour is the right one so I bought it. If a house appointment is happening, I receive an email from the realtor’s admin. Today we had nothing. Yesterday we had 1. Tomorrow we have 2. So I will pack up the dogs, their bowls and their big bed and head over to husband’s store to hang out for the day. Pickle, our wiener dog, is a great ‘store dog’. She is little and cute and therefore not intimidating to anyone. She didn’t even bark when people came in, which, let me tell you, is unbelievable. I was there and I still don’t believe it.
Ellie, our coonhound/golden cross, is a major pussy. She is afraid of everyone and everything, especially if it moves quickly. Oh except for squirrels and other wild life. Those she actively hunts. She once had a mouthful of feathers from a lucky bird that escaped from within her massive jowls. But people, cars, car doors, house doors, distant footsteps, horn honks, and ANY OTHER loud noise causes her to cower. Predictably, she is a wreck during thunderstorms and fireworks. She pants so hard I am shocked she has never passed out. Having never had her at the store for longer than 15 minutes, I don’t know what she will be like tomorrow all day. Because she is large and has big scars on her face (from trying to get under a barbed wire fence when she was younger because she is also not smart), she looks mean. People have asked me if she is an ex-fighter dog. Um no. She is incredibly loyal to me and acts lovingly toward me at all times, but if I stamp my foot on the floor she will limp away in a hurry. This is the dog that spent days and days with me when my ankle was in a cast, and we formed a bond. But none of that matters to her when I stamp my foot because obviously I have turned into an evil monster that plans to eat her alive. AAAAHHHH!!!! Run for your lives!!!!