The storms subside

Well, I feel like I've been through the wringer, and so do the rest of the family.

On Sunday we all went downtown to visit Princess. One look at her, lying huddled and miserable, and utterly unresponsive, broke my heart. We spoke to the vet. All they could offer us was the prospect of more tests that would either confirm something untreatable, or leave us just as much in the dark.

It was not an easy decision, but in the end we called time. We gave the children the choice of being there, or not. Matthew stayed out in the waiting room. Megan cried here eyes out but chose not to leave. We said our goodbyes to Princess, and the vet gave her the injection. I cradled her head while she died. We brought her home and buried her in the front garden.

Life at work has been quite surreal all week, while us non-union folks wait to learn whether or not we'll still be in jobs by the end of the week. Not much speculation going around, just anxious waiting and trying to pick off a few tasks here and there. Nobody's been able to do much of anything while we wait to see where the axe will fall.

Today was the day. Checking email every few minutes to see if there's the dreaded 15 minute meeting invitation with the Exec Director. Speculation now running rampant through the building. Who's moved? Who's gone? Time is ticking. Not heard anything. Am I safe yet? Four o'clock. They must have notified everyone affected by now! But I won't relax until I see my name still on the org chart.

Finally! The all clear sounds. The org chart is available. And, yes, I still exist.

The week has not been all gloom, though.

We have booked a summer camping trip up-island to a campground we thoroughly enjoyed last year. We plan to book a couple more weekend trips too, but we'll worry about that later.

On Monday, I made my first cycling commute of the year. It's a one-hour journey each way, compared to the 5 to 10 minute hop depending on traffic that I used to have in Guernsey, so it is serious exercise and not something I do every day. I stop each year when the light fails, and start again three months or so later. Just long enough to get out of condition and build up my winter paunch. Getting going again is hard work. My legs turned to jelly when I got off my bike Monday evening!

Oh...and the fish are still swimming!