valkryor | 2025 is already fired. (Reply)

January is almost over. Another day and a half (or thereabouts) and it will be over. Yay.

So, some updates:

Sheldon - We had to take him back to the vet for more testing at the beginning of the month because the anti-nausea shot had worn off and he had started puking two or three times a day again. This time, it was blood work and urinalysis. I declined the abdominal ultrasound; he is old and it's expensive. We got some anti-nausea pills that day and then some painkillers the next day. In the end, between two vet visits and another scrip of PukesBeGone, I've spent about $1100. And for what? A flare up of pancreatitis. He has an upset tumtum, and I have a massive vet bill. UGH. (Yes, I know it's more than that, but the end result - too much puking - is the same.)

The kid is in exam week, but has no final exams. Because of the weather, exams have been postponed by two days, so the new term doesn't start until Wednesday of next week. The only good thing about this is that I won't have to get him out of school for his next orthodontic appointment.

Depression is kicking my ass. Often, this is a symptom of my meds not working as efficiently as they should. Because of a recent upping of the dosage last year having the required effect (quelling the hot flash anxiety spikes), and me able to do stuff, my guess is it's a reaction to everything else. As much as I like to know what's happening in the world around me, I don't think it's doing my mental health any favours. Time for a news diet, I think. And more Bob Ross. Happy little trees and happy accidents, here I come.

The microwave overheated last night when I was getting dinner sorted. This...does not fill me with joy. I unplugged it, cleaned the inside, wiped down the outside, and gave the cubby it sits in a once over. The cubby was the worst of it, which is impressive, considering how disgusting the insides of microwaves can get. Anyhoodle, plugged it into a plug that's on its own breaker, and it turned back on again. So yay? I put everything back, but declined to plug it in again. I have a healthy amount of paranoia regarding kitchen appliances spontaneously setting themselves on fire. If I need it, I will plug it in. If I do not, then it can stay unplugged.

I am still reading and writing. See above regarding depression for why everything is stalled or meh. The same is true of my crochet and knitting projects. Thanks brain, I hate it.

For those who don't follow the news, it has been confirmed, in stomach churning detail, what a massive dirt bag Neil Gaiman is. I was gutted and continue to be gutted, and now I have to figure out what I'm going to do with the MASSIVE AMOUNT OF BOOKS, COMICS, MOVIES, AND OTHER EPHEMERA that I've collected over the years. I know I won't be able to enjoy any of it until he's dead and buried, and so much of it was formative and meant so much to my younger self. I have two small shelves on a narrow bookcase jammed packed with my physical TBR pile. I think tomorrow I'm going to unpack it, dust the shelves, and pack as much Gaiman stuff as I can on them and move my TBR somewhere else. If I have to cover them so I don't have to look at his name on the spines, I have more than enough fabric for the job. I just don't feel good knowing that it's visible, you know?

My last two periods were long, but desultory. By that, I mean the flow was somewhere between spotting and light, and my body couldn't seem to make up it's mind about how it wanted to proceed. I started yesterday and boy howdy, the difference couldn't be more stark.

I was making lunch, not doing anything more strenuous than watching eggs set in a frying pan, and it was gush after gush after gush. It is, in a word, disconcerting. I took something for the pain already, but the cramps were bad enough that my labia hurt. My labia! Gods balls, that's annoying. To say that I'm worried about leaks is an understatement. I have already tucked an old towel into the seat of the desk chair just in case. I may put a second on the couch as a secondary precaution.

I am OVER going through this.

I'm fifty. I've had my kids. I don't need a functioning uterus any more, so why can't I just turn the damn thing off?

Okay. That's enough rambling. My lunch is ready (a Greek style omelette - eggs, fries, cheese - that I first had on Crete *mumblesomething* years ago) and I'm hungry.