Didn't sleep much last night- My subletters leave in a wee less than 3 weeks which means I have to go back to Santa Monica and be forced into things I don't want to do just yet (or at all in some things). Unless a miracle happens and I get a job soon. VERY SOON.
Even Kennedy knows I'm paralyzed with anxiety right now. Instead of sleeping at my feet, she squeezed her body along side mine on that very narrow couch I've been calling a bed for 3 months. I don't even have money to buy my flight back to California. Don't have the money to bring the animals to a vet for a flight certificate. Then, of course, no money to fly them with me.
And as it looks like I may be forced to spend April packing up to move back to Illinois - into my mother's home - 100% dependent on her indefinitely....well I slip into a depression I'm determined to fight. But some days even walking homeless dogs and helping kittens post-surgery won't remove the sludge from my heart. Thanks to yet another one of my mother's fits, I try to consider really how bad it would be to just live on the streets vs more time enslaved to her and her anger.
So before I walk doggies, I treat myself. More Intelligensia. Since it's my 1st cup of the day, I can enjoy one of their award-winning lattes. Made by the recent winner of the US Barista Championship, Michael Phillips. I get lucky and he's here this morning. My latte is exquisite. Both to see and taste. The photo above is me enjoying my, eh, 3rd sip. It's so beautiful I hate to drink it not wanting to destroy the artful way he poured the steamed milk. But to drink it- ahhhhhhhhh-- for now my anxiety lessens...and I'm able to give 4+ hours of this snowy day to 30+ homeless dogs I've been neglecting this past week thanks to flu bugs and motherly surprises.
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