šŸƒAmanda22Janeā¤

Ghost Writer
2017-02-02 00:00:00 (UTC)

Thursday 02/02/17.

16:40 NZDT.
Been a busy day. Got mostly everything done in the town over. Yet to do my blood tests at Pathlab and book an appointment with a lawyer, but everything else got done. Busy day. Happy and tired. Back at home now. On the way to the busstop this morning, a large dog was out on the front lawn doing his business. I never saw him but he saw me. He barked furiously while lunging towards me. I heard a lady call out to him and he stopped barking and advancing. Gave me a heckuva fright. Thought he was going to eat me for breakfast! When the lady came running out, I told her off. Now I regret it. I'm sorry lady. I love dogs but I don't like being intimidated by them.
Boy! It took a bit of planning to get everything important done today. Still haven't paid a couple of bills and haven't rung the info bureau. Be back soon. Just remembered I better do it.


Update :
Well I've been given the go ahead from my son-in-law to travel up north next weekend, so I can safely re-schedule my travel bookings for then, which I will do tomorrow. It's just a phonecall away. I've been transferring a non-refundable fare for travel for nearly two months and the travel agency says that this is my last chance to re-book my fare or they will expire it. THANKYOU GOD. He is good to me.

I'm on the whisky tonight. Went into CADS today to see my counsellor and we will be meeting for our last farewell appointment next week. Dhe told me she bought a copy of Irvin D. Yalom's : Love's Executioner & Other Tales Of Psychotherapy and was enjoying it as much as the Russ Harris "The Happiness Trap" that she has given me.
I couldn't resist telling her about one of my favourite stories in "Love's Executioner" : a prominent medical professional unfolded her story about how she finally let out some real anger towards her husband. She got drunk and threw a lemon pie at him, which narrowly missed his head by inches. (I believe there was some plate smashing too.) :) Irvin believes in people getting real about their feelings, sooo....I guess dessert never got served up the way it did in that household that night.
I wish he was my psychiatrist. I certainly wouldn't fuck him around. Wish M. Scott Peck was my psychiatrist too. Dreams are free. Back to my whisky, prayers, then bed. Busy day tomorrow.




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