I'm writing this around another hate message on my monitor. The last one said "I Hate You!" in blood, and was repeated on the bathroom mirror. That was on technolust's last night here. This one seems to be written in lipstick, but I'm not certain. It just says "You Forgot the extra Key Bastard", which I'd say is an improvement. I would say that except that the one on the bathroom mirror returns to the good old theme of "I Hate You for Doing This To Me", that, and the fact that the extra key she's referring to is the extra key to my car, where I'd locked up her meds at her request soon after she moved in. I strolled through the rooms of the house other than hers, into which she's retreated behind closed doors, and found all of her meds scattered across my bed.
We'd had a pretty good day, relatively speaking. The weather is beautiful. Blue wasn't fighting desperately to keep from hurting herself like she did all day yesterday. We talked and hung out around the house. It all seemed to be going well.
I got an email from another friend, asking me to call her. She's going through some rough times now too, and probably needed someone to talk to. I mentioned it to blue, and she encouraged me to call. I called and talked to her for a while, and during the conversation she mentioned that she hadn't been eating too well lately, so I decided to invite her over for dinner, if blue felt like having company. I went outside to ask about it, and found that her mood had switched completely. She'd become agitated and hostile. I said that maybe it wouldn't be good for either of them to ask her over while blue was feeling like she was. Blue said that she didn't want to keep me from spending time with other friends who needed me. I went back in to call the other friend back, tell her how things were, and let her decide whether or not to come over. Blue came in about the time I picked up the phone, and
[Fuck! long delay while I wrestle blue to the ground to retrive the bag of pills I gathered up off my bed. Further delay while I disarm her when she lunges for a nasty, cheap, serrated steak knife. More fighting for pills. Brief fight over phone while I try to call the police. Blue pleads with me not to call; says I promised; I point out she promised not to fucking kill herself in my house; her will breaks; she sits down, bows her head and cries. After searching for a while, I find the phone and hang it up again.]
Where was I? Oh, blue came in and told me that she'd cut herself again if my friend didn't come over, she'd cut herself, making sure that I didn't tell the friend not to come over because of blue. I figured it was a no-win situation, so I might as well enjoy my friend's company. I called and asked her to come over, telling her that blue was already feeling antisocial, and was unlikely to want to talk, but that my friend's visit was unlikely to make it any worse. She decided to come over, and I took out 3 steaks to thaw.
My friend came over and we had a nice visit, while blue sat out on the porch and smoked. She had to leave again to run some errands before dinner.
I went out to fire up the grill, and found that blue was sitting in her rocking chair on the porch smoking, listening to music, and playing -- no, playing's not really the right word -- carrying on a serious struggle with her favorite knife. She wasn't hurting herself, but she clearly had to fight to keep from it.
My friend returned just after I put some seasoned potato wedges and onions on the grill. I cooked those, then the steaks. While I was cooking, going in and out of the house, I noticed that blue and her knife had disappeared, presumably to go for a walk together. My friend and I ate ours in the living room in front of the TV because the diningroom table is still piled with a bunch of my crap that I need to sort through and put away (result of combining our households, not just laziness on my part). I saw through the window that blue returned and the put the knife safely and firmly away in the wooden handle of the lid of my grill. Blue came in while we were eating, and I told her that I had a steak and potatoes for her in the kitchen. She went in and out of the kitchen two or three times, then went to her room, never speaking. After we finished eating, my friend went to the kitchen and said I should come in there. Blue's steak was hacked up and lying on the floor in a pool of wasted potato wedges with a knife sticking out of it. I quickly noted that there were no signs of blood and that it was one of the cheap-ass Chez Target knives I bought years ago and not one of my Henckels. My friend noted that it was perhaps the best steak of the three. She also wondered aloud how I put up with that sort of thing. I shrugged eloquently. She had to go and take care of other things, so she left.
I came in here to journal about the good day turning very bad, and I discovered the message written on the monitor. I went to the bathroom to check for another message on the mirror and found that one. While I was writing it, the above mentioned athletic interlude ensued.
There are more details I should include, but this JE is getting so long that even I'm getting bored with it. I'm pretty tired now, and I find it hard to type after life-or-death wrestling matches. My hands get shaky from the exertion and the adrenaline. I've gained some skill at disarming a knife-wielding opponent, and that's always a handy skill to have.