My two cats are mirroring each other on my bed while I listen to singles by Daughter that I just bought on iTunes. It's been a long day of watching random videos on Youtube and season 4 of Parks and Recreation. I managed to do one load of laundry, but I still haven't folded the clothes. The fridge is empty, my bathroom's a wreck, my night stand and dresser are covered in used dishes, glasses, and empty Amazon boxes. My period started this morning. I feel sick from lying in my bed for the last two days, eating oatmeal, old pasta, and peanut butter with chocolate chips. I've been having dreams of my dad this last week and have randomly smelled at work that horrible smell from his bedroom, that combination of bile, blood, starvation, death. 

That room that held so many memories, mostly bad ones. But when I went down there and stayed with him for those six months in 2012, we actually had almost a few, normal conversations in that room. How many times did I see him take naps on that bed? And that's where he died. Except that he died on a hospital bed that was brought in for the last two days, so the blood/bile coming up out of his mouth wasn't quite as much as when he was lying flat on his bed. And now I'm crying and I swear, I didn't set out to write about him, but he's been on my mind a lot the past couple of weeks and I can't help but feel horrible, absolutely horrible, even though there wasn't a damn thing that could be done to fix our relationship, because he was inflexible, so strange, completely lacking empathy, and never once recognized that the way he had treated us was abusive and wrong. But I should have gone to see him that last Christmas, I should have called him more. He wouldn't have communicated anything and my reaching out really would not have changed anything, and I don't regret not having him in my life now, but I hate, I hate how he died. No one deserves a death like that. No one. Why am I smelling it?!!! And at work, I've had so many patients' accounts with the date of birth of March 7th and it's like a little, precise stab into my psyche. Or, even worse, and this has happened a few times, when Moody Blues suddenly comes on the hold music for an insurance company while working on a patient with that date of birth and I'm already thinking about him. Argh!! 

He's been dead eleven months today. I just realized that. I was only thinking about it being about a month until the one year marker. I asked for March 7th off from work. Hopefully, I will get it. I have nothing planned, I just can't be there that day. 

I don't really have the heart to write about my personal life otherwise. Well, except I may possibly have a new job soon in HIM, fingers crossed. But I've hit so many walls in this application process for this job, it's been such a long time, and now, at the very end, I've hit one more wall, and it's killing me. I want, I NEED to turn in my two weeks' notice. My current job is absolute poison to me. The HIM department will be another hen house, but it won't be tinged with memories from the worst years of my life. Granted, I only started here in Feb 2013, so 2011 & 2012 weren't included (and those years were BAD), but it's still toxic to me. I can't stand the people I work with, the work itself, and, well, everything else.