"Brokeback Mountain" and Response to It and Other Stimuli; Yucky; Outside; Cats

I'm still reeling over "Brokeback Mountain." My feelings are a reflection of my depression. I think I've mentioned before that I feel that my emotions are vastly too fragile. And I can easily become overwhelmed.

The antidepressants and anti-anxiety drugs ameliorate the impressions some, but they still lurks in the hidden regions of my psyche.

There were many, many years that I would be seized with this overpowering sensation of brittle sadness and would have to sneak away to weep.

I have an all too vivid memory of attending a banquet some years ago, and being consumed with such melancholia that I had to leave. The banquet was at a large hotel with a garden in the unroofed courtyard. And I slowly walked there in the rain weeping. I have no idea what caused this.

For the past week or so, I've felt yucky. Very depressed, tired, congested, unable to concentrate. As though a migraine were going to hit at any minute. I had some anticongestants and some headache pills, and they do appear to work. But I ran out of money to have the prescriptions refilled. (Even after going into overdraft.)

This evening I feel better. It may be because it rained today and has become cooler after nightfall.

Tomorrow will be the first of the month, so I'll be able to re-fill the two prescriptions.

Alas, the prescriptions, along with the other medication, makes me feel drowsy. So I've found myself feeling slightly disoriented.

I've tried to limit the outside work to no more than 30 minutes per day. Even with a mask, I've noticed a definite reaction to the pollen. Monday, I thought I'd be energetic and rake part of the front; well, I did, and I was exhausted.

The backyard is a carpet of leaves of every color. In the middle is a section of grass that is still green. And on the border is a mat of pine straw.

There has been, as always, a brief period, when some of the trees along the roads have been fiery red. But I noticed today on the way to lunch, that brown has taken over.

At the moment, Athena is in the kitchen on the stove indulging in her customary late night yodeling. I swear it's akin to Tibetan throat chanting. It really means she's mad because I won't open another can of cat food for her.

Be'Ard and Hermes are at the end of the couch semi-asleep. Not curled up but extended as though just about to doze off.

Minerva is in the crook of my left arm with one paw on the laptop. She usually wants to be on my chest, so she can hit the keypad with abundant frequency.

I don't see Tiger, Tiger, but I know he's on the bed. And the second, I go to bed, he'll be in my face wanting to be petted.

The felines and I are still having some miscommunication about the appropriate places to urinate. The sofa table is not one of them. Nor is the cushion of one of the chairs. Or, would you believe, the basket of gem stones. All very irritating. And this is so at odds with their normal behaviour. I think the return of the rugs to the living room confused them with some old smells. But I think the situation is slowly improving.

PAX!