July has been a Black Dog sort of month. I will be overjoyed to see it wither and die. Fortunately, this is only days away now. I’m just not yet used to emotion having such a large part to play in my thoughts. I’m more accustomed to meandering through life with utter ambivalence. But July has been a bitch of a month to date. On the face of it, nothing really bad has happened. Part of me sees this and wants to give myself a good slap and a “Pull yourself together” pep talk. But thoughts of my family are difficult to get away from. My relationship with my brothers is somewhat wrecked. And I did that. For the first time in my life I feel entirely impotent. I miss them. Every day. But contacting them still has the potential to make things worse. And that’s tricky to compromise with yourself over. But that’s the “feeling sorry for myself” part of this post over though. August is a new month and July is getting put to rest. If I do nothing else in August, I will at least be grabbing my life by the proverbials and getting on with it. Rover, however, is getting put to sleep. For as long as possible.