It's been a lovely day - sixties, sunny, low humidity. I celebrated by mowing this afternoon. I opened the house yesterday and a good time is being had by all. I'm loving the sounds and smells, Jethro is barking at all the noises, and the cats are lying in the windowsills and stalking the petunias in the window boxes.
I saw Joe today for my yearly check-up. He thinks the anxiety has a depression component, which is probably right, so he put me on Celexa to address both. I have a thirty-day prescription and I'm to call him and report in a couple of weeks. He said counseling may also help, but as usual my insurance doesn't cover that so it isn't an option. Like most insurance, that's only covered on an in-patient basis, thus closing the barn door after the horse is already gone. It would help to talk to Father Matthew, but he's too busy to take on anything else. I can't ask that of him.
You always did that for me. I could talk to you about anything, and I did, often and at great length. You always made everything better. But what I'd have to talk to you about now is what it's like living without you, and there's something of a contradiction there.
I had lunch at Five Guys, a hot dog and lemonade. I got the car washed, and went to PetSmart and bought a Thunder Shirt for Jethro. It's July 3rd - they had them on a big stand right inside the door. I gave him his first time in it this afternoon, and he loved it. I'm sure it will get used tonight, and probably for the next several nights. I do hope it makes him feel better. It's hard to see him so scared and not be able to do anything about it.
While I was at Five Guys they played Springsteen's Cover Me, and I realized that's how I'm feeling. I want somewhere to hide from the world. I just don't have a person hide me like I used to. I'm facing the rain, the driving snow, and the wild wind blowing, all by myself. I wish I could come to you and let you hide me.
Needing a place to hide,