So I didn’t take the kitten. Willpower. It’s what’s for breakfast.

Before all of you jump on my shit and start screaming “Mean Mom! Mean Mom!”, just allow me to remind you that we currently have four, count them, four felines currently in residence at Casa Trance; and I truly don’t want to wind up on Animal Planet on that show with the fucking cat hoarders.

The J-Man actually didn’t even ask for the kitten. I think he knew that the answer was going to be a big fat No.

I did want it though. It was cute to an absolutely sick degree.

So. There have been migraines. I have been having at least four per week for oh, let’s say FOREVER now, and I’m about fed up. Tomorrow I have a neurologist appointment, and I plan to stretch myself across his desk and cry until he offers up some sort of viable solution.

What else? There is my old boyfriend, the prom date. Things are becoming rather intense on that front and honestly, I don’t know what to think. There are a lot of phone calls and texting and most of it is very deep and passionate and it’s extremely heady stuff. We see each other again this weekend and I’m just a raw ball of nerves, but it’s a good raw ball of nerves, if that makes any sense.

He makes me feel things that I haven’t felt in a long, long, long damned time. He’s an extremely intelligent, sensitive man; and he challenges me, and it’s refreshing on so many levels.

So, there’s that.

There’s also this: I have a therapist appointment today.

Now let it be known that I fucking loathe therapy. I’ve been seeing a shrink for years and years, but almost never an actual therapist, because I think they’re largely full of shit. If I want to talk to someone about a problem, I call a friend, and more often than not I get much better advice than stupid shit like “Feelings aren’t facts.”, “How does that make you feel?”, or (and I swear to God a therapist actually said this to me when I was in the terrible throes of bulimia), “You could just eat vegetables with salsa. Salsa has very few calories.”

Seriously.

However, the shrink has mandated that I begin seeing a therapist, so off to therapy I go. I’m not happy about it, I’m not going into it with a stellar attitude, and I don’t trust this woman any further than I can throw her, but I am going to attempt to give it a go.

If she mentions salsa, though, she’s toast.

In other news, I have decided that I can no longer watch the news. Jesus God in heaven, it’s fucking depressing. Generally I read the local paper (which is something of a joke in Indianny) and watch the news as well as read it on the internet daily, but my God, does it bring me down. I’m not naive. I do understand that into this world a lot of shit must fall, but watching story after story about murder after murder and political corruption after political corruption and just the absolute dregs of human nature? It seriously makes me sad.

I already have a tendency to be sad. I just don’t need the news to exacerbate it.

Does that sounds shallow and as if I prefer to live in my own little bubble?

So sue me.

I probably won’t be able to stay away from the news for long, anyway. I feel compelled to know what’s going on.

In other news, the J-Man has been off of his anxiety meds for about two weeks now, thank God, and is doing great. (knock on wood) No vomiting before school, no freaking out. I’m pretty proud of the boy these days. His grades are excellent, he’s having a pretty good time of it in school, he auditioned for a garage band (YES), he loves choir, he’s lost over 20 pounds through healthy eating, and he’s been damned pleasant to be around.

The dreaded teenaged hormones must be on the upswing these days.

Whatever it is, I’m enjoying it immensely.

In still other news, I am obsessed with watching reruns of season 7 of So You Think You Can Dance. Love the bag, love the shoes, LOVE IT.

If I could be anything, I would be a kick-ass dancer. I’d just have to lose about six inches of height and about fifty pounds…

Happy Wednesday.

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