Passing the time

Time is going slow today. I’m glad I won’t have to put up with Troy shit and pee and spew for the next four days. I hope they see what he’s like. If he’s not like that at the kennels, then I’ll know that he’s into something here, in my place, somewhere in the flaming fucking back yard. If so, I will be restricting him twenty-four hours a day, for his own safety and health. I didn’t get a guide dog to put up with vomiting every seven to fourteen days, to have to worry about him every single night and almost every day, just in case he spews up when I least expect it. I feel as though I’m a medical response dog to a guide dog. I don’t want that sort of thing happening anymore. I want to be a happy and chilled out person, with a beautiful guide dog who loves helping me to get around. If I have to have Troy on leash all day and all night just to keep him healthy, then so be it. I’d rather never ever take the dog’s leash away from him, than to put up with preventable health problems. This dog isn’t a pet really. Pet dogs can roam the yard whenever they want, service dogs can with supervision. And Troy needs a lot of supervision. I’m surprised the puppy raisers didn’t have more control of him when he was boarded with them. Oh well.

Tomorrow my carer is turning up. I want the house to be mostly clean by the time she gets here. Then without the dog to tow around, I’ll be going to the courthouse, the post office, and to sit down with a feed and drink of sorts, within two hours. I think it can be done. It just takes three times a long with a dog to look after. Then tomorrow night I will make sure all dishes are done, mats are almost dry, clothes are tidied away, etc. by Saturday morning, there should be nothing to do. I will need milk for cereal and coffee! I don’t want a two litre bottle though, I just want enough for a few cuppas and one or two bowls of cereal. It’s funny, two litres of milk is too much and one litre is not enough! So I don’t know what I’ll do. I don’t want the fridge to be full of wasted food by the time I get back home on Sunday. I was thinking of taking my computer with me so I can make a blog, but seriously I’ll only be up at the dam for just over twenty-four hours! I’ll make a blog on Saturday morning, then another one on Sunday. I need an excuse to blog regularly. I haven’t blogged a lot lately. So I need to make blogging a daily occurrence like it used to be last year. Even last year was a bit irregular, but most days I’d write blogs. I think half the problem is laziness and the other half of it is not knowing what to write. But when I first started writing, I wrote about nothing in particular. Just so long as it made for an entry, I wrote about anything that came to mind. Now it has to be some sort of major event or something I find worth writing about or it’s just too hard to get into the writing mood. So I guess I might just have to start chilling like I used to do and write whatever comes out of my thoughts. It’s not as though I’m writing for everyone else. I’m actually writing for me. It’s merely up to others whether they want to read it or not. If I really don’t want people to be given the option of reading these entries, I’d either not write or I’d privatise my blog so they couldn’t see it.

I want to call a friend tonight. I don’t know who. But I need to call someone. The most fucking depraved thing now, is that usually I can just go and hug the dog and chit-chat for ages, ring friends, then pat and/or hug Troy whenever I wish. Well, now I can’t do this at all. I don’t miss Troy’s bad issues that he creates by his severe psychiatric issues with the back yard and needing to put things in his mouth, but I do miss giving him affection, patting him, chit-chatting to friends while massaging the dog’s back and chest at the same time, and hearing background noises of panting, whining when he’s excited to see visitors, contented groans as he lies there sniffing the breeze that comes his way, the happy yawning that tells me that he loves chilling out here. Now if I call a friend tonight, I have nobody to show any affection to. Not a bloody fucking soul. I’m absolutely loving the holiday away from the stress though. I won’t need to get up just to take the dog outside tomorrow or the next day. My only issue is not being able to hug the dog because it’s not here. That’s my issue. I want to hug something, or someone if you consider the dog to be a somebody rather than a something. I have no idea if this is how Troy feels when I’m gone. I really have no clue. He was crying loudly when I left him in his enclosure and handed him over to the people to look after him. I almost ran down the fucking passageway to try to hide somewhere in the kennel area, but decided to stay near the gate so I could get out and pretend that I was taking the dog home. But instead I felt like I’d forgotten something, more like didn’t want the dog to come home, by the time I was in the car and ready to go home. Troy has never boarded before, other than when he was a pup, so I hope he likes it.

My other problem is that I had to give the talking scanner back today. Since the grant only covers community access, I can’t have the scanner. I think that’s discriminatory. I need a talking scanner because of my disability, not to access the community! I already access the community through Guide Dogs and their O and M services. I was thinking a few times of taking some companies to court, but yesterday’s process to get out of jury duty was hard enough. It was easy to a large degree, but you had to have a security check, show ID, show that you do have a disability. All that shit. So it was a big process to me. There’s also a legal process for applying for a birth certificate. I can sort of understand that though. As for having to justify why I fucking need a talking scanner? The proof is in the pudding. God some mother-fuckers deserve bullets eh. The OT is trying again to get me the funding for this scanner, but if Vision Australia meetings are not good enough justification, I might be going to the courthouse eventually. I’m not afraid to talk to a judge about my life if I feel that my quality of life isn’t as good as it should be. Like if I’m being discriminated against, or can’t have certain technology because it doesn’t meet my needs according to what someone thinks, etc. I will fight and I will win! It’s upsetting that only wealthy disabled people can have everything they need for their disability issues. It’s upsetting that only rich people can afford things that are necessary for life if you can only get those things subsidised with grant funding or save up for a few years and still pay the bills. People forget that my technology isn’t a luxury. It’s a must-have for me. It may be exxpensive, but it’s still not a luxury item. I can’t choose wheether I want to read a print book or scan a book into a computer. I do not have that choice. All these dickhead companies who can pick and choose which disabled person will or won’t miss out on a product that they must have anyway, are mind-boggling. To me they’re in it for the money, otherwise they’d do more to help people with disabilities.


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