I am so angry right now, but not sure that I have any right to be. I am also thoroughly depressed -- and angry because I'm depressed and depressed because I'm angry and yay!
I got home at lunchtime to find that the Gecko had just simply made herself at home on my couch. She was kicked back in the spot I favor, with her feet up, and made absolutely no attempt to even conceal the fact that she'd been lounging all day, unlike last week, when she'd at least sit up and put her feet on the floor when I got home for lunch.
So, great. She ruined my nearly brand new wing chair and hassock -- I will never get the smell of her out of them -- and now she's going to ruin my new(ish) couch. (The couch came from my parents, who only bought it three years ago.)
I don't feel that I can tell her to a) bathe more than once a year, or b) not sit on the couch (I mean, it's totally reasonable to expect her to stay out of my cupboards and fridge, but not so reasonable to expect her to stick to just one piece of furniture), and so I have to silently fume about it. I was so angry at lunchtime that I had to leave my own home. I ended up getting Burger King for lunch and eating in my cubicle.
When I got home after work, she was gone, at least, but I could see that the curtains were disordered, apparently from her peering out looking for her father. Though why she was peering north when the driveway is south, I do not know.
I loathe her. I despise her. I cannot stand having her in my space.
And, yet, I can't afford anything better. You get what you pay for, and I cannot afford $200 a month (plus the extra gas and time) to take Jack to proper doggy day care.
That wasn't the only thing, though. I turned on the kitchen lights, and one of the bulbs was out. Now, I have probably described my kitchen light set up: There is a fixture in the middle of the ceiling for a recessed fluorescent light of the sort you see in offices. HTWIWM decided that wasn't sufficiently bright for cooking, so more years ago than I can now remember, but probably fifteen, he took that fixture out. He then installed two garage spot lights (not the yellow hanging kind, but the kind that have a reflective dome behind them), one over the stove and one over the sink, and somehow wired them into the empty fluorescent space, then covered that space over with insulation. It was meant, like so many of the stupid redneck things he did around here, to be a temporary fix. And like so many of the things he did, I have had to live with it. The reflector dome on the light over the stove is loose, and only stays up because it rests on the light bulb itself. My dad told me that wasn't actually a problem, but it seems like one to me, and my patience is finally at an end. I have my tax refund, and even though it is earmarked for Other Things, I got the name of an electrician/carpenter today, and I mean to call him.
I just hope I can afford him.
I think I'm going to go watch, first, the last twenty minutes of Return of the Jedi because I shut it off early last night, and then, probably, a couple of episodes of Emergency! because lately, it's my go to thing when I'm depressed. Johnny and Roy to the rescue, right?
But, first, I might have a good cry.