Woes of the mind

I'm not sure what to do. I'm sleepless, and it's all due to these dreams I've been having. I'm going to "nut shell" these dreams, and they're up for interpretation. If you have a theory, let me know. Perhaps there is a way for me to end them. 

Let me say before I begin, that I have not spoken to Luke since July. I haven't thought much about him, as I really haven't had time to worry about something so juvenile. 

Okay, so:

The dreams take place in one of two places: The playhouse or a beautiful garden in ancient Greece. (Yes, I'm aware that I have an overactive imagination. Blame it on the books I read.)

Things usually happen as normal, especially while I'm in the playhouse. I'll be talking to someone, or cleaning up, and he'll walk into the room. A number of the dreams have included him yelling at me for something trivial. I'll not be wiping the bar correctly, or I'll say something to someone else that he isn't fond of. It always ends up with me feeling like a schmuck and him walking out. Other times, he'll walk in and be "Old Luke," the friendly guy who always has something to talk about. The thing is, he'll come in completely out of the blue. He will not even be at the playhouse at the time (he'll be back home) and yet he'll make an appearance. When the dreams take place in Greece, he'll argue with whoever I'm with, while wearing a toga. 

What the crap? 

It's been awhile.

I have definitely been a slacker with my new blog. I have not posted since January, so PLENTY has happened.

I have managed to come down with a version of the plague.
I am not sure why, but I have managed to stay in a perpetual state of illness since January. I was at IKEA (an amazing store, by the way, that sold me two book cases at $45 each. Oh, and a plethora of other home goods that have managed to slightly improve my living space's visual dynamic) when I doubled over with a cough that literally took my breath away. I cried in IKEA. I broke all of the blood vessels in my eyelids and under my eyes. I broke blood vessels around my mouth. I produced blood from my coughs. I was out of work for a week straight. I lost my voice and my ability to control my bladder functions. (peeing your pants each time you cough is NOT okay when you're 23.) I have not fully recovered from whatever it was that I had. I maintain a constant cough, my tonsils are still easily the size of golf balls and I've talked myself into a diagnosis of esophageal cancer. (Watching GMA has not helped ease my hypochondria, as apparently drinking hot beverages can increase your chances of being diagnosed with said type of cancer. I have literally burned off taste buds and had blisters on the roof of my mouth because of how hot I like soup, coffee and tea.) I'm thankful that I have been at my job long enough to qualify for benefits. I have submitted my paperwork for health insurance and am waiting for my cards to arrive in the mail. I will then visit every doctor I can afford co-payments for and have EVERYTHING tested. Thyroid, Lyme Disease check, cancer screenings... I know, I really need to do something other than self diagnose myself.

Coda, my pup, turned one and was diagnosed with Lyme Disease.
I am anal retentive. All of my close friends know this. When Coda comes inside the house after being outside, I do tick checks. (This is one reason I miss Florida. Ticks did not exist. It cannot be avoided up here.) I have NEVER seen a tick on my dog. I take him in for his rabies vaccination along with a wellness exam to find out that he has one of four strains of Lyme and now needs two and a half tablets of a $30 antibiotic for 35 days. I walk out spending nearly $300. I cry and call myself a bad pet owner. I vow to eradicate the tick population before my untimely death. I then find a dear tick crawling on my pants. (begin freak out.) Decide that if my dog managed to get bitten without my knowledge, it is inevitable that I have been bitten and probably have some strain of the disease as well. Cry because at this very point in my life, I am broke. Not a penny to my name.

I have nearly $2000 in propane delivered in a three month period.
I. Crap. My. Pants. What the hell? I am so incredibly cheep when it comes to heat. My thermostat hit 70 degrees for an hour a day for one solid week. (This of course being the week of my plague.) Other than that, it is at 60 degrees at the most, 50 when I'm out of the house. I shower every other day. (call me nasty if you wish. You pay for propane to heat your house, water and work your stove and oven. Tell me how much you do to eliminate the need for multiple deliveries.) I wait until I have a full sink of dishes before washing them. (Trista, can you believe it? I allow dishes to sit *after rinsing in cold water of course* in my sink until I have enough to call for hot water.) The insulation in my house is AWFUL. I am calling my landlord tonight to discuss this issue, as I currently need a propane delivery, but still owe $580 from my most recent delivery. He said he'd work with me if the cost was high. (Keep your fingers crossed for me!)

I have read MANY books.
It's amazing really. Since this past summer, I have been a reading machine. I had to buy the IKEA book cases because the bakers rack I was using as a book case was full. I put my DVDs in one, and books in the other. I have no more room for any of EITHER item. I have read the entire twilight series (4 books), the entire house of night series (5 currently released, one more to come), a meg cabot book I didn't get to this summer, started the goddess series by P.C. Cast (2 out of 6?), read two books consisting of three vampire stories each, a book called kissed by an angel, and have started three more. I have no social life, so I read. I enjoy it.

I have spent a lot of time with my mother.
This is good and bad. We of course had an awful fight not too terribly long ago. (We have since reconciled.) I have been attending a lot of Olivia's skating events with her. I come to her house every weekend to visit with her and with my grandfather, who comes for Sunday morning breakfast.

I have watched "Marley and Me" and decided that it is entirely too depressing.
Perhaps it's because I'm a pet owner. Perhaps it's because the damn dog dies of what I was warned about by my vet. Perhaps it's because I'm a softy. All I know is that I held my dog and cried throughout the end of the film. Sad...

I have yelled at people on Ebay.
I, thanks to a wonderful review by Kristen, decided to purchase the Furminator. (A brush for dogs and cats that eliminates excess shedding.) Instead of spending upwards of $40 for the brush, I looked on Ebay. Bingo! Buy it now price for a brand new Furminator, including priority shipping: $26.00! I paid with my paypal account on Sunday, and here I wait. Still. For a package coming from Tampa, Florida. That cost me $8.00 in shipping. For PRIORITY shipping. Oh hell no. I received an e-mail on Friday saying that a shipping label had been printed for my order. I click the tracking number to see that it has yet to be mailed. I contact the seller, telling her that I was unhappy with the speed of her shipping, especially since she offered (and I paid for) priority shipping. She blows it off. I then e-mail her with an explanation of how I mailed a 20lb package to NEW YORK from FLORIDA for $7.00. It arrived (USPS, snail mail, not PRIORITY) in two days. I demand a FULL refund of my shipping costs. No reply as of yet. I'm waiting to see what is said. I may just dispute the transaction if she blows me off again.

I have enjoyed the kids that I work with, not my supervisor.
He's a typical man, expects everyone to do his work. I have brought it before his supervisor. I have brought it to him. I will not do his work while he gets credit. I will not cover for him when he does something stupid. I will do what is expected of me for the kids. He is a little better than before. (He didn't know how to fill out the book about toileting and eating, which is STANDARD. He doesn't fill out the bathroom log. He schedules himself to work with a female, which is against center policy. I called him out, things are starting to change.) The kids are amazing. I always leave work feeling as though I've made the student's day a little brighter. I'm actually sad that I will not be working with them this summer.

That's me in a nutshell. Crazy, but still fun. :-)