I have no excuses except that I seem to hold myself in perpetual readiness to write & my communication skills suffer as a consequence.
I have been very narrow-focused: writing, dogs, abstinence, some of what I've had to do for my dossier.
But before I go any farther into today I have to get off my chest how much I hate people & the terrible resentment I'm carrying that is sprouting out in ugly ways.
Two weeks ago I filled in for a colleague. I invoiced a dog & the owners haven't yet paid. I've left three similarly pleasant messages. Yesterday the client called my colleague & asked how much he charges for a "pee & a poo," which is to say, not much of a walk but an elimination. He hesitated because the standard walk is $15 -- who knows when a dog will go for the money shot? Then she said that she noticed I'd walked their dog briefly -- he's old & doesn't want to leave home -- & my colleague suspects she wants to pay me less.
I'm supposed to walk that dog for three days next week. I told Aaron he would have to pay me for that dog although I will invoice the others, but after that conversation this morning, I decided to simply let the $75 go & to tell him I wouldn't walk the dog again. I feel humiliated from calling her, from her criticism which she took to Aaron instead of to me, & for the criticism itself. I thought I was doing what the dog wanted because it was a complete tug-of-war to get him down the street.
I want to be mean to the client. Aaron is desperate for next week's substitute so I said yes but never again for that dog.
I'm mad at joggers for clipping my dogs and making them startle & snarl. I'm mad at joggers who won't break their stride when they come upon a group of people on the street but say, "Excuse me!" in that snippy voice. I'm mad at joggers who don't stop to look at the fireworks bursting behind them on the Promenade. What the hell is SO important about joggers???
I hate yuppie mothers in elevators talking loudly & cozy-self-consciously-I'm-my-
I hate strollers. Today I moved my dogs to the side because I could hear one coming & the man just sailed by. "You're welcome," I said in a sarcastic gooey voice.
& this is really weighing (ha ha) on me.
As is the book, which is going through the most difficult tunnel & is due in 10 days when I'll be walking dogs more than full time & I have a weekend of dogs ahead of me.
Prozac messes with my appetite. Yesterday I forgot to eat until night. It not only suppresses my hunger, it seems to divert my attention from it. (I had 1 c. yogurt, 1/2 c. oats, some sugar-free apricot jam.)
BUT...
Today I don't have to mix with the world until evening, when I have something like six walks in a row. I am not going to ask for money again from this client. I'm trying to let my anger, self-justification, humiliation & hurt go: deep exhale.
I don't have to worry about money. I have enough. I haven't opened the check my father sent with all sorts of conditions that make me feel invaded.
There is light at the end of the tunnel in writing about last fall & getting on to the fun ending of the book.
I don't have to walk Crazy Emmett today. It's just us girls, me & two naughty but adoring Labs.
All the proper recommendations have been requested & accepted. My dossier is nearly done.
I only have to eat, stay away from joggers, parents, children, occasional clients, other dog-owners/walkers, & write a little today.
& get groceries.
I'm going to go have some yogurt now. I don't have fruit in the house.
I'm going to have salad, 4 oz. ham & a tablespoon of oil for lunch. I'M GOING TO EAT LUNCH.
I will probably have yogurt, 1/2 c. oats & a fruit for dinner.
I feel a little better getting all this off my chest.
Love,
Frances
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