It’s time to start planting my herbs.
I know I don’t really have access to my herb gardens any more (if you can even call them gardens; they were more like free-ranging herb bushes), but I figure I can’t be too retarded to grow them in containers. (Katie, don’t snicker just because I killed that one little plant you gave me in less than a week. That was years ago!) I need basil, chives, and cilantro. We’ll see about the rest.
I’m also thinking about growing tomatoes in containers, but I might be reaching above myself. Besides, we live in a ground-floor apartment and it might be hazardous to put them on the patio to get the most sun. This is an expensive complex, but there are thieves everywhere.
When I got home on Monday, I got some bad news: Katie was seriously injured by her pet iguana. Apparently, the iguana got out of the house and climbed up on one of the fences. Katie went after it, wearing a green shirt (which the iguana is very attracted to), and the iguana jumped at her. Not in a bad way, but iguanas jump with their mouths open, and Katie raised her arm to block him and her hand ended up in his mouth – do you see where I’m going with this?
So a lot of skin got ripped, she’ll need 100 stitches (I wasn’t completely sure whether she’s had them already or if she’s getting them), she has tendon and nerve damage, and she’ll require physical therapy. And animal control took the iguana away, to an exotic animal farm near/in Richmond. So no more Puck hanging about, giving me the creeps. But she loves that lizard, and it didn’t hurt her on purpose. I feel so horrible for her.
I talked to her on Monday night, and I was supposed to call last night, but I ended up falling asleep. I haven’t been getting much sleep lately. Dirk and I are looking for a suitable recovery gift because, dammit, when you get a hundred fucking stitches, you deserve a gift.
Dirk’s been working nights again, after telling me that if I feel like it’s affecting our relationship, I need to tell him, and he’ll stop. It’s lonely sometimes. I’m afraid of the dark, so I turn on the lights in our bedroom, bathroom, and closet. Not all of them, just enough so there aren’t any dark, shadowy corners in my line of sight. I can deal with just a nightlight or even less when he’s beside me, but there are too many bad things in my head to let me rest comfortably alone in the dark.
And what if I have a nightmare? When I was living at home I could (and still did) wake my mother up in the middle of the night to tell her about it, and she’d hug me and talk to me until I calmed down enough to go to sleep. She understood about the fear. If Dirk isn’t there and I have a nightmare, I can’t go into Aaron’s room and wake him up, because I’d have to get dressed in order for it to be quite proper and he’s not the most comforting soul in the world.
It isn’t a problem right now, it’s just lonely sometimes.
