I felt so bad for her. She was walking around the apartment all night. Restless. That meant that I was also restless. I was up with her. Monitoring her every time she made her rounds. To be honest, she had been a trooper in all this. I wished I could do more for her. Right now, I just wanted to observe her first. So far, her condition has not worsened. She was acting like her normal self. And diarrhea was the only thing that was not normal.

Of course, with my attention glued to Phoebe, Paco decided that he would be a jealous one. He has been a handful to handle since yesterday. We were struggling last night. He was always on Phoebe’s way, crowding her. And I honestly did not like that. So, when Phoebe was awake and about, I had to make sure that this mofo was on a chair. This boy could be a handful at times.

I was also not productive today. I was not able to reorganize today. I wanted to let Phoebe rest a little since she was having such a hard time last night. I did not want to make unnecessary noise in the apartment if I could help it. I did not want to disturb what little sleep she could get. So what did I choose to do the whole day while monitoring Phoebe? I marathon’d The Hunger Games movies. I was having issues deciding on what to play in the background, so I just picked this series because I really just needed the background noise. I did not want to sit in silence. It could be deafening sometimes.

Since my brain was occupied by other things, my focus was definitely not good. I had issues reading yesterday, much less today. No reading happened today or would be happening tonight. It would just be a waste of time if I tried when I’m like this.

I did however find solace in journaling again. I managed to figure out how to journal with the minimal writing space I have available to me. It was definitely helping with my anxiety. I always said that this activity was therapeutic for me. And it was. I thought it was just something that I needed to do to brain dump. But honestly, it helped a lot with my anxiety and my restlessness. It kept my brain and hands busy for a good amount of time. And by that logic, I saw myself more and more drawn to pick up my sketchbook and practice drawing again. I mean it was not a bad idea. I enjoyed that activity as well. So I might just go ahead and pick it back up. What harm could it do really?