Elvis died. He got out of his warm area and didn't make it back in. Farewell my little kingsnake.
I took out his body and then went down for coffee at Mom and Dad's, told them and burst into tears. They looked horribly uncomfortable. So between sniffles I said "I'm not asking you to do anything, I didn't realize I would cry, but now just witness my grief and understand that I'm sad."
Pretty soon we were able to get back to business-things needed to be looked up, water aerobic is cancelled till next month (pool rehab)...and WHEN will I go see John?
"Not today, today I am sad, I've had enough stress and bad news for the past week and John is warm, safe and dry. But I'm not, and I'm in no shape to render comfort. We'll go tomorrow".
This was taken remarkably well, no one talked about what I should do, what I should feel...setting boundaries is not nearly as difficult as I first imagined, and my parents are not nearly clueless as I thought they were.
I did make a dramatic entrance, walking in to their house and dropping an F bomb. "I hate that fucking sycamore tree...." but it needed to be said.
I'm going to flatten the remaining stump and then carve it into a totem pole. I thought about doing it when it was 10 feet high, but that violated my no ladder agreement with Mom. Now that it's 4 feet high, it's fair game. The neighbor behind me had the same idea, and since it faces his house, it's good to have his support.
I will have to utilize the chain saw....sigh, so many safety obstacles to overcome.
Tomorrow I get my hair trimmed, and I will evaluate the home of my hairdresser's neighbor, also my neighbor since it's one block over. They have another litter of newborn chihuahuas, left outside. It may be time for the female to go missing, and returned suddenly spayed.
The dogs are owned by the daughters-highschool and college age. I suppose in reality I will make an effort to talk to them, but it would be so much easier just to lift the dog and return it...no, I won't, but I'd like to.