now the world's a little older and the years have changed the river

I've been pretty unpleasant to be around lately. And I'm trying to get over it. It'll take awhile.
Here's a couple things.
I am actively trying to get a dog. Whilst B would've never been ok with me having a love but him I am quite sure that since I loved only him (as far as beasts go) while he lived he would not want me to be hiding my love away from some other needy mongrel. So-there will hopefully be another dog-this one a wee terrier of the sort sung about by Bruce McCulloch-will live in my home. Mik has said that it's ok if I name the dog . Which I think is a boy name-but can be a girl-most Jodys are female these days. I went to school with a girl named Jody-I don't remember her last name and I bet that's not how she spelled it---the only thing I remember about her is that at 14 she looked ready for menopause. I suspect she looks about 12 now. ANYWAY-Jody was one of the top picks for names--(the others, if I've listed them before I don't remember doing so and I'm sorry for the repeat so soon) were June Carter, Billy, and Townes. I thought that Mik was pretty attached to the name-she'd even said that was what she would name a dog---but she told me I oughta name my new bubby Jody.
So when we walk down by the river people can say-"Look-a yonder there goes Jody and the kid."
I'm very much hoping to have another dog soon. Not ever another Baxter-not ever a Baxter replacement, as he was special in a lot of ways and I miss him so much I still have trouble looking at his things and pretend they aren't there...his food...his dishes...his blankets and bed...it hasn't been a month yet it'll be a month on Wednesday. It seems a lot longer-and yetI still move around them like maybe if I wait long enough he'll come back. Isn't it sad (by which I mean pitiful)-but everyday-even tho it feels very much like a broken record I have to remind myself that he won't be there when I go home. It still seems like maybe he will come home----my depression and solitary existence has become pathological---I bet there are people that have lost husbands or wives that aren't has effected as I am.
Of course-I am a ridiculously strange creature. If my conversation with Mum is saying anything my tendency to not do drugs-wander around naked in mixed company and have random sexual encounters is quite unlike the habits of my g-g-g-generation ( No, I don't know why she has the insight into my g-g-g-g-generation but she probably does, since I am lame). Fuckin' hell-she called me "straight" tho she retracted that statement in consideration of the fact that I just don't do drugs- do drink and swear and smoke the occassional cigarette and I also enjoy loud music and dancing. And you know-I would do drugs-I'd do lots of drugs-if such habits didn't make me sick (a source of much embarassment, quite honestly). This strangeness is probably why I don't feel like my job is a guarantee-I think I was hired because it seemed like I was a likely habit for a pothead. I act like one-I look like one-my apartment screams "try to find my bong!" so assuming I was one wouldn't be that hard to believe. Sadly, I'm just a kind of messy, space-y, slightly dirty freak which isn't nearly as much fun to be around.
I'm waiting for the distinct honor to be bestowed upon me to be the first person to be fired for not smoking pot on the job.