PITY, PARTY OF ONE

 Gentle Readers . . . and Maxwell,

I've had a lot of migraines lately. They make me feel like shit. I give myself a shot of Emgality every month, which usually helps, but my insurance won't cover the Nurtec that helps with break-through migraines. My employer sees record profits so the CEO and other top-level people get millions in bonuses, but they take away our benefits. I know I've bitched about the changes at work before, so please pardon my rant.

My last paycheck was $1.96. A lot of what I earn goes to my part in paying for benefits and into an HSA that doesn't have enough money in it to cover all my medical expenses. 

I've also taken long leaves of absence this year and last because of severe health issues. I won't share them. TMI

The whole X hiring a lawyer thing and wanting to change the settlement hangs over my head like the blade of a guillotine. I wanted to retire after the first of the year. How can I do that when I don't know if I'll even have sufficient funds to live at a greatly reduced standard––not that I'm living the high life now, especially with costs going up non-stop. How can anyone afford to buy beef? I don't eat red meat very often, but I appreciate an occasional steak. I can't remember the last time I had one. 

The letter from the lawyer said when X retires his loss of income will be more than $100,000 a year. Isn't that so fucking sad. I've never had an income approaching that. I don't have a standard of living anywhere close to what I had when we were married, but he wants to cut me off. We were married for 30 years. When he was very sick, I took care of him, although he hated me for being ill.

They haven't filed anything in court yet, but I need a lawyer to represent me. I called numerous law offices in Illinois (the state where we divorced). Quite a few lawyers weren't accepting new clients. I finally found a lawyer to take my case, but her retainer is $4,000, which has to be paid immediately in order to hire her. That amount seems to be typical for a decent lawyer. I don't have a stray $4,000 sitting around. I told X's lawyer we can't talk about anything unless X pays for my lawyer. And I will fight to keep my maintenance (alimony). 

If I have to continue working, there's no guarantee I'll have a job. My employer has adopted the employees are meaningless and can be easily replaced business model, which was the standard at the job I had before. I don't know from one day to the next if I'll be fired. 

When I feel especially bad, when I cry, Princess comes to me and I look into her eyes. She helps me a lot.

I guess that's all I have to say for now. If you're still reading, then I thank you for putting up with my problems.

Infinities of love,

Janie Junebug

JOIN ICE

Gentle Readers . . . and Maxwell,

I was concerned about Favorite Young Man and K last week because ICE was in their area. In the city where FYM works, ICE smashed a window on a vehicle, pulled out the driver and arrested her because she honked her horn. 

I texted him immediately to tell him he's still my baby boy and I was worried. He replied that the morons assholes pieces of shit (morons, assholes, and pieces of shit are my words, not his) the agents were probably downtown and the place where he works is outside of town. K said the school where she works was on high alert with all doors closed and an area prepared in case they need to hide children.  

We no longer live in the United States; we're in 📙hell.

Happily, our weather has been beautiful with highs in the low 80s and lows overnight in the 50s. It's excellent dog walking weather. I was especially proud of Princess as we enjoyed a long walk Saturday afternoon. She walked at heel perfectly the entire time. As we approached the neighborhood park, a vehicle backed up toward us. Princess watched, too, and let out a soft warning woof. She's such a good girl.

Saturday evening I went to a pharmacy for my flu shot and pneumonia vaccine (I already had the COVID vaccine in October). I started to feel tired and achy a few hours later. Flu shots haven't bothered me in years. I think I had a reaction because I got two vaccines at the same time. I needed a long nap Sunday afternoon. 

My arm also hurt more than usual after the COVID vaccine. But I'd much rather have some aches and pains than have COVID, the flu, or pneumonia. I've noticed how frequently pneumonia is the cause of death for older people. Diane Keaton is one example.  

We're expected to have a nasty flu season because of vaccine skepticism. Thanks a lot, Worm Brain Bobby. He's not a doctor. He doesn't have any expertise in healthcare. He cites disproven studies and even invents sources to back up his crazy vaccines-are-bad- for-you beliefs. Wouldn't you know 🟠 would want the one Kennedy in his cabinet who all the other Kennedys hate?

If you haven't gotten your flu shot, I hope you'll get one now. 

My upcoming long weekend will find me getting the Christmas tree up and decorated. Princess and I will have good times together, too. She loves turkey, as do I. We have a Costco heat-and-eat Thanksgiving dinner in the refrigerator. Yum!

Infinities of love,

Janie Junebug

DEAD PRESIDENTS

 Let's all curse the 📙who called our veterans suckers and losers.

IF MY LAPTOP DOESN'T RECOGNIZE ME, THEN DO I STILL EXIST?

 Gentle Readers . . . and Maxwell,

Sometimes when I attempt to log in on my laptop, I put my index finger on the doo-dad and the computer says it doesn't know who I am. 

What? Then who in the hell am I? I try again and sometimes it says I have to enter my PIN. Fine, whatever. 

Times are hard, boys and girls, very hard.

I wanted to write about dreams, but I can't remember them. I take a prescription medicine to help me sleep that can cause vivid dreams. The longer I'm on it, the less vivid the dreams are, or they go away, or I don't remember them. I ran out of it recently and after I began taking it again, I had some wild dreams. 

The first dream was pleasant. Mitchell and I were conversing. He was in the US. I don't know what we were talking about, but it was such a pleasant dream that I wanted to write about it. Alas, the details are gone.

Then, early Monday morning I had a nightmare. It was real, and I was terrified. I came out of it when I heard myself ask, Is this a nightmare? I don't remember what that was about either. 

I have lost track of the number of supervisors I've had at work. They come and go constantly on the supervisor merry-go-round. They quit or they're promoted or they disappear. The first one, Bryan, was so good that I thought the company would have other good supervisors, too. Not so. I had interacted in the past with my current sup. She's in another state, but she seemed great––thorough and pleasant. She isn't. She is disrespectful and can always find something wrong.

I did learn something from her, though. Months ago when I had this year's job review and J hadn't quit yet, he told me I wasn't meeting company standards. For the second year in a row, I didn't get a raise. At the time, my depression was in remission. 

It left its parking spot in remission and went on the attack. I haven't completely recovered yet. However, I learned from the current sup that I was meeting company standards. While I can do some things better, she described one aspect of my numbers as phenomenal. 

I don't know why J lied to me. But his lie did a lot of harm to me. Other supervisors with this company have also lied to me. Do they do so at the behest of management, or do they not know what they're doing? J also lied to a friend of mine who received correct information from her new sup. 

What I know now is I also have other problems. My eczema is terrible on my left hand and arm. Anxiety follows me everywhere I go. I haven't been able to work most of this year because of depression. I am looking for a lawyer who can represent me in Illinois because I received a letter from a lawyer representing my ex-husband. He wants to change our divorce settlement. 

I will be 67 in February, 2026, and I hoped to retire at that point. If X gets his way, I won't get to retire. I'll continue to work for the crappy company with the supervisors who lie. I also won't have enough money to keep my house. I could move into a low-income seniors apartment building, but that won't work for Princess and me. While many of the buildings allow dogs, they don't allow Princess-sized dogs. I'd rather get a tent and pitch it in the woods than give up my Princess. 

Everything seems very dark and dismal to me now. I've been calling law offices. Perhaps the place I called this afternoon will be the right one. I have some retirements funds, some of which I received in the divorce, but X misled me for years about the amount we had saved for retirement. What I have isn't enough to live on combined with the bit I'll get from Social Security––if it still exists.   

The world has always favored men, and I don't see that ending any time soon with the felon's regime in place. Will no one stop him?

Infinities of love,

Janie Junebug

TODAY IS INTERNATIONAL WOMBAT DAY

Gentle Readers . . . and Maxwell,

If I don't make the mistake of clicking on the thing next to my blog post, will it please not insert links? Let's try: International Wombat Day. Okay. No link. However, predictive text has taken over and I hate and despise it. Let's enjoy a picture of a cute little wombat to help make up for it.

 Okay. Something is really messed up. It took forever for me to get a picture of a wombat. I can't do searches the way I usually do. I can't get photos the way I usually do.

What madness doth this be? What cruel witchery hath taken over the world?  

Are the rest of you under attack by these wicked demons or hath they only taken over my computer? 

Out, witches and warlocks, out! Get thee out of my mechanical device or I shall send my good and faithful servant dog to show her teeth, frighten you, and send you away! Take heed!

Bubble bubble toil and trouble get your asses out of my metal box or I'll turn you to rubble!

I'm too tired to mess with this now. Perhaps the good fairies of the internet will arrive overnight and all will be well tomorrow.

TODAY IS INTERNATIONAL WOMBAT DAY

The post that was here disappeared. That might be for the best because I said motherfucker multiple times.

SOMETHING ACCOMPLISHED

Gentle Readers . . . and Maxwell,

As dusk drew nigh on Sunday, I decided to replace the burned out lights on the house next to the deck. I had procrastinated because the job meant climbing the LADDER OF DEATH.

I know to you it's just a regular old ladder. To me it's a hideous contraption.

I am afraid of heights. When I go above the first step of my little step stool in the kitchen it leads to heart palpitations, the need for a fainting couch, a quickening of breath, and whatever Jane Austen would say to describe a lady in distress.

Yet I dragged the ladder out of the junky garage* and steeled myself for the journey. The new light bulbs were on the railing of the deck, awaiting their moment to shine. 

How high would I have to climb? First two steps weren't enough. Save me, Lord, save me. I had to keep going.

I trembled and moaned a little. My tiny feet trembled as they felt for each step up. 

Princess turned in circles of concern on the deck. What if Mommy fell? How would poor little Princess get her supper?

I HAD TO GO ALL THE WAY TO THE TOP STEP OF THE LADDER. Look at how high that is! The gate is 6 feet tall and I had to climb way up above that.

Once I had scaled the summit, I still had to disengage the old bulbs that didn't want to let go because they'd been there for years. Then I had to turn and turn and turn the new bulbs to get them to stay.

I bought extra bright bulbs for Princess'es viewing pleasure (she might want to enjoy a little reading material while taking care of business). 

But the job wasn't finished when the bulbs were in place. 

I was stuck––too frightened to feel for the step down with my foot. So I stayed where I was. I looked over the gate and hoped some kindly neighbor might notice my head up in the air and wondering why it floated on high, come to my aid.

That did not happen.

Eventually I got tired of standing there. My back hurt. Princess wanted her supper, and I was getting a little hungry, too. Food can be a great motivational tool.

So my right foot very slowly felt for the step down. The withdrawal from the ladder took even longer than the ascension. I had to stop to wipe the sweat from my brow so it wouldn't run into the cataracts on my eyes. Years Hours A few minutes later, I was grateful to be on solid ground, although the rest of me still shook.

Princess and I hugged in triumph and marched to the kitchen for her kibble. I took a swig of Diet Pepsi and said, I am a badass.**

Infinities of love,

Janie Junebug 

*I have an excuse for my messy garage. The door is broken so I can't close it. I can't afford a new door at the moment. So I keep messy stuff in the front of the garage. Anyone looking in and thinking about robbing me is supposed to say, Why would I bother? That's nothing but a bunch of junk. They won't see the lawn mower, the pressure washer, and the chain saw in the back of the garage––I hope.

**Once upon a time, I took on a difficult task that worried me and Favorite Young Man declared I was a badass. I don't claim such an appellation very often, but I decided I deserved it for surviving the hazards of the ladder.