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I've been commissioned to help clean out my Grandfather's apartment. I'm pretty sure I'll be in there almost every day of this week along with the weekend because he's definitely not moving back at this point. I know he isn't thrilled with being in the nursing home but it takes him a little longer to bring up moving out each time he sees my dad, it's like the idea is sort of beginning to root itself into his brain as normal.

Today, the task was taking all of the pictures down from his walls so they could hang them up in his room at the nursing home. I can't help but wonder what any of them are going to mean to him in a few months time. Even now, he's invented stories about some of them which are completely untrue. How much longer before the faces in those frames don't mean anything to him? It sort of makes me wonder exactly what the point is in bringing them to him. Of course, maybe surrounding him with familiar faces will help maintain what little of a connection he has left. There is just so much I don't know or understand about this disease.

Life with the cats continues to remain interesting. Moxie keeps getting herself into trouble and stirring up problems with Sylvia. I think probably the worst thing happened on Friday night though.

We're slowly but surely breaking Moxie of the habit of climbing on things. It's unfortunate that she keeps finding new and different ways to access the high points of the house. Friday morning, I left the door open to the laundry room (which is how she had been able to gain access to the false ceiling) and I thought I heard her above me before I left for work, but I didn't have time to get her out. I figured worse case scenario, she would be stuck up there for half a day and I would get her down when I came home in the evening.

When I got home I settled in downstairs and waited for Moxie to reveal herself. Sure enough, she did. The only problem was that I could find her absolutely NOWHERE in the ceiling. I shined the flashlight from end to end, checked the places she could get into silently and couldn't find her ANYWHERE. When I went back into the laundry room, I noticed a hole in the ceiling which is right below the bathroom upstairs and got it into my head that somehow Moxie had managed to jump into that hole and was now trapped between the upstairs floor and the downstairs ceiling. [livejournal.com profile] princessklutz04 gave me several suggestions for getting her down but no matter what I did it seemed Moxie was trapped in a far corner of the room and I had no clue how to get her out.

It's hard being on your own, listening to the plaintive meows of a trapped cat and eventually the stress of it wore me down until I pretty much had a complete meltdown. When my parents got home from their night out I was in tears, I yelled at my father when he told me this was the final straw, the cat had to go, and went on this horrendous rant about how lost I feel and that I have nothing for me in my life.

Around 1am, we finally decided to go to bed because Moxie had gone silent and we couldn't figure out where she could possibly be. No one slept well that night, and I had to keep shooing Sylvia out of my bedroom, thinking her presence might deter Moxie from revealing herself.

A little after 6 Mom woke me up and told me she had heard Moxie in the same corner I had. She went upstairs to listen above where we had heard her and I continued talking to her, getting her to make noise but when Mom came back downstairs she said she hadn't heard a thing. We were stumped until Mom made the offhanded comment that she wondered if Moxie had somehow gotten herself stuck in corner between the bookshelves. They were both against the wall, but because of the doors on the bottom they were out of the corner, creating a tunnel which a stupid cat could easily fall down.

So, I looked. Sure enough, staring up at me was Moxie. Apparently the bookshelves were too tall for her to scale from the floor, and she had used some outside help to reach them and then carelessly fallen down this hole. 10 minutes later we had cleared the bookshelf and she had run up the stairs and hidden herself in my room.

No one has really mentioned the meltdown since then. I think it's in the back of everyone's minds though. I feel more and more like something is wrong with me, I just can't put my finger on exactly what it is though. I have these fantastic bursts of motivation, and then I can't bring myself to do much more than move from my bed to a chair or something. It's frustrating, and it makes me nervous. Plus, at this moment, there isn't really thing one I can do about it because I need to find a job and get back on my feet economically. If I'm being truly honest with myself, this has been going on for much longer than the past two months, and I think in some way it might even have cost me my job because of the horrible funks I've been in and out of over the past year.

I just wish I could snap out of it, but it's just not happening.

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