Since my last post, I've learned that my quasi-boyfriend Ron has terminal cancer and expects to be dead by Christmas. We adopted an adorable sweet kitten named Mischief Maloo (we added the Mischief after she discovered a pan of oil in the garage, not three hours after I brought her home) to keep him company. He's also still the primary caretaker for his dad, even after starting chemo, so when I talk to him, he's completely exhausted. :(
And yet, he seems more worried about me than about himself. I'll be sad but I'll be OK.
I'm also losing a lot of time to general anxiety. Too much thinking and not enough sleeping, walking, journaling, etc.
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