Brain currently booting in Safe Mode

More things:

At the end of February, I had a doctor's appointment (mostly to meet my new doctor as well as get a necessary follow-up ultrasound that was supposed to happen in January). On the way to catch my bus (that I missed), I slipped on some black ice. I thought I had only wrenched it a little, walked to another bus stop (different route) about ten minutes away, caught my transfer, then had to walk from that stop to the office down hill where the footing was not great.

At the end of March, I discovered that I did not simply "wrench my knee a little", but actually twisted it. My chiropractor set everything back to rights and it's been slowly healing. I've already been through this particular song-and-dance, so I know that it will be months before it's back to something resembling normal. Sweet Baby Christ in a minivan, if I could go back in time to counsel my younger self, I would tell her to take care of her knees, 'cause this? This is some bullshit.

Sheldon had a bit of downturn with lots of diarrhea multiple times a day. Not only was it super gross and hella stinky, it was also worrying. So I called the vet, got him in on Tuesday. She didn't like the feel of Sheldon's intestines, calling them "ropy" and suggested an ultrasound. They do it in-house, with a tech coming in soon. As it turned out, "soon" meant Wednesday or Thursday. We also got some medication to help with the runny poops.

I made arrangements to get him in on Wednesday, as I could fit it in after taking my kid to his orthodontic appointment. I also had to dose him with gabapentin two hours before bringing him in. That was both comical and/or horrifying to watch this elderly cat try to do anything while under the influence.

The vet is fairly certain that Sheldon has something called triaditis, which is three organs all acting up at the same time, those being the pancreas (pancreatitis), the small intestines (inflammatory bowels), and the liver (cholangiohepatitis). The only way to determine if it's something more sinister is with a biopsy, and putting a very ill, seventeen-year old cat under anesthesia really does NOT sit well with me. We're going to be giving him steroids, which is the best treatment option at this point.

We continue to be under an eviction notice and are now waiting for the new hearing date (we're trying to get all of us represented by one hearing instead of multiple ones for practically the same paperwork). Not gonna lie, this is more bullshit.

I have been looking for, and failing at, finding work. While I am unsurprised, given my fifteen year job gap, it still blows chunks.

Even with all of this uncertainty, life continues to happen. We even splashed out on a new mattress and box spring because we are over waking up sore and did not do so last year. (Our current mattress and box spring were bought last century and do not owe us a damn thing at this point.)

I am currently knitting my first pair of mittens for a friend (this same friend destashed his late mother's bags and bags and bags of yarn upon me, so it seemed like an even trade) and have completed the thumb! Okay, yes, it doesn't sound that exciting, but I had to learn a new skill (increases to the left and to the right) as well as adapt the pattern for how I knit, which is not how these mittens were intended to be worked up (in the round on double pointed needles vs in the flat and sewn up after).

After the thumb was thumbed, I thought that I should, you know, weave in my end because it is the one thing that I hate the most and this would get it over with quickly. I have a little case that I naalbound with all of my yarn needles and my naalbinding needles, some stitch markers and safety pins, and a foldable pair of scissors that I bought at SickKids when Shannon was in their care. I picked it up, thought it felt weird, but put that out of mind and opened it up and tipped it out.

Where the hell did all my needles go?

While I do still have two of my naalbinding needles (including the brass replica of an archaeological find gifted by my friend), the scissors and stitch markers and safety pins, I only have one yarn needle. What the actual fuck?

My best guess is this: I had taken my completed owlbear to Declan's orthodontics appointment last week because I had attached the legs unevenly and it made the entire piece wonky. I brought what I needed to take it off and then reattach one of the legs to make it look more even. (Side note: any handmade crochet stuffy is going to be a little wonky. It's the nature of the craft and part of the charm of the finished piece, but I digress.) Because I was working on something that required my needle case, I suspect that the others slid out when I wasn't paying attention and I left them behind in the waiting room. I did not notice that they were gone until yesterday and they weren't at the bottom of a bag temporarily misplaced.

This is more of a bummer than any kind of life altering loss. The needles have most likely been tossed into the trash, which is a tich frustrating because too many useful items get thrown out for no good reason. Ah, well. I will acquire more at some later point when I have the inclination and opportunity to do so.

We live in the darkest timeline.

I'm currently oscillating between wanting to throw up and utter despair.

While I am not American and could not vote, I am going to be deeply affected by the results all the same. I worry what is going to happen with our next election, how this will embolden the right to be even more extreme.

Stop the world. I want to get off.

It's been a week.

But, valkryor, you say, it's only Monday.

And to that I reply, yes, yes it is.

Working backward starting today:

Monday - End of July always sucks. Today, it's been 19 years since we lost Shannon. 19! I'm not bawling my eyes out every five minutes or anything so obvious, but I'm flat and gray and glum all the same. We did do groceries this morning, so that's one less thing anyone has to deal with. Oh, and because today isn't 'fun' enough, I think I'm coming down with something. What that something is, or even if it is a thing, I do not know. Whee.

Sunday - Was okay, but kind of meh as it's been 22 years since Gus the big Mean Bunny died. I miss him a lot, even if he could be a cantankerous ass about the weirdest things.

Saturday - Best day of the lot. It was ostensibly a game day, but clawfoot, Ironstone, and I are making up for the time lost during the Great Panini. Yes, we still gamed, which was great, but in person beats online any day of the week. Good times, good conversation, and one actual combat. It was enough. :)

Friday - Mammogram and Ultrasound. Yeah. That just sucks even when you're not facing down the Worst Weekend. I'm not entirely reassured by the number of pictures taken during the ultrasound, especially in places where I didn't find anything; it has been hovering at the edge of my thoughts since. Good times. I also lost a chunk of writing (I use Docs on my phone when I'm out and about) and I have no fucking clue where it went. It was there and then it wasn't. I likely fat-fingered something. Not improving my mood was dealing with public transportation. It was ostensibly fine, and yet... While it wasn't cramped or overly crowded, every bus I took over the two days of appointments was BUSY. Lots of stops, lots of movement of passengers. Which is fine, but I had had enough by the time I had to catch my bus to come home.

Thursday - A dental appointment. I mean, a cleaning and exam isn't that bad all things considering, but with the impending mammogram/ultrasound and the Worst Weekend? We'll just say that "dental anxiety" wasn't on my bingo card this year. Oh, and I have work that needs to be done at the end of August. JOY.

Here's hoping that the thing that wants to invade is nothing more than a stress response to the Worst Week and not an actual virus. I am not a fan of either, but at least the stress response isn't contagious. Super annoying, sure, but I won't make anyone else sick.

The only good thus far (and I've not even been out of bed an hour as of writing this) is that my toe is starting to look better. It feels weird, and is still a little sore, but it no longer looks ANGY. The swelling's gone down, too, so yay!

The bad? My cat is an asshole.

Well, okay, cat's are OFTEN assholes. It seems to be a default setting, so there is that.

BUT, Sunny, not ten minutes ago, pulled down my aloe from the window sill and onto the kitchen counter, breaking the planter that the pot was in and spilling soil. One of the fronds is broken, too, so it's dripping aloe everywhere. I doubt that was his intention, but he has this habit of biting the lower fronds and tugging off the desiccated bits. And I couldn't break him of it.

Sadly, I don't think I can keep this plant, at least not anywhere the cat can get to it (which is all but one location, and that's not a great place as it doesn't get that much light). It bums me out because it's large and healthy and loves the kitchen window.

FUCK.

My kid came home from school today soaked and carrying his shoes (they go to and from the school in his bag), his coat askew, his backpack gaping open.

Why?

Zippers.

Zipper malfunctions all the way down.

First, I fixed his bag. I tried to do it the easy way (ripping the seam at the bottom of the relevant side, pulling out the ends of the zipper tape, replacing the slider, stitching it closed), and soon discovered that the zipper slider was starting to disintegrate. Since the main pocket has two sliders and the other looked okay, I pulled that one off and closed it up and considered it good enough for now. I might need to replace the zipper in the future, but I have a number that I've pulled from my old packs over the years, so that's not going to be an issue.

His coat, though. UGH. I had already fixed it, so no shit, there I was, fixing it AGAIN. Except my fix wasn't going to work, because the slider broke into two pieces and that was that. Had this happened last week, I would have put off the work until tomorrow, when there's daylight and it's easier to see what the fuck I'm doing. BUT, it's cold and the weather is going to get colder and damn it.

I had two zipper candidates in my stash: a gray one that was the perfect length and a black one that was about 5cm shorter than the zipper in the coat. Not egregious by any stretch of the imagination, and not the first time I've put in a zipper that was a bit short. The winner? The black zipper. Why? It wasn't a two-way separable (you know, two sliders so you can unzip it from the bottom to access the inside of the garment without undoing the zipper), which was the commercial zipper put in when it was made and it has caused nothing but headaches.

So.

I fixed his coat, because that's the cheaper/easier option for me. My hand, though, it fucking hates me (I think I'm developing arthritis at the base of my thumb on my right hand - good times), because I made it pinch and hold and pin and do all of that other fine motor control necessary for sewing. It's one of the reasons I've made myself some tea, so I can wrap my hand around the mug and use the heat to ease some of the ache. (The other reason is I just want a cup of tea.)

Is it the best zipper replacement I've ever done? Oh hell no. Replacing zippers is one of the things that I do not enjoy doing. I do it because people pay me to fix their winter coats and sometimes it's necessary. I'm always happy when it's done, though, so there is that. And yeah, not my best work but that's okay. For an emergency replacement that would not wait for a day or two? It's good enough and most people won't even notice that the stitching is wonky in places or that the zipper isn't quite the right length. It will outlast the kid's use of the coat, which suits me fine.

You know what really helps when you type? Not having a bandage on your left index finger. It does a hell of a lot of work, something you don't notice UNTIL you have that bandage (and we're also going to ignore how many fucking typos I've made because of it. Backspace key is my laptop hero right now).

And how, you might ask yourself, did I end up with a bandage on my left index finger? I smashed my finger with a hammer. I was ostensibly fixing a chair, and had glued and clamped the relevant parts and was looking to glue and screw in the corner brace pieces (it had been nailed previously). EXCEPT... *le sigh* I think the frame is some kind of hardwood; even with a drill, screws were a NO-GO as I risked burning out the damn motor.

No, I did not pre-drill my holes. Yes, I was using wood screws.

So, nails it was.

I was pinching the nail between thumb and forefinger, holding it steady, as you do. I then missed the nail head and smashed my finger. It hurt, because it does, but I kept going. It felt like I had smashed my finger with a hammer, not that I had smashed my finger open with a hammer. I didn't notice until I saw blood dripping onto the table.

I am both annoyed that fixing a chair resulted in an actual injury and that I did not that great a job of fixing it in the end. It should not have been that hard NOR had taken as long as it did. I am less than impressed with my (admittedly rudimentary) repair skills today.

Sunday, walking on a perfectly flat surface and carrying a slightly damp dishcloth from the kitchen to the bedroom to put it in a laundry hamper, my knee decided to do A Thing. I don't know why, I don't know how, but it was painful. I spent most of yesterday babying it, staying off of it, and that seems to have worked. Whatever had gone screwy seems to have fixed itself. And if that's not the case, it no longer hurts whenever I do something so pedestrian as "stand up" or "stretch".

Why my foot decided to get in on the random dumbfuckery action, I do not know. I don't know what I did or how it happened, but in being kind to my knee, I managed to bugger my foot. *le sigh*

Now, if no one minds, I'm going to go yell at clouds because this "getting older" malarkey is utter nonsense.

Sick. Again.

It started last night, and while I feel okayish now, it's only going to get worse from here. More than a little annoyed that I have to move the vascular surgeon appointment I finally got, but I doubt very much they are going to want to see me when I'm feeling like this. And yes, I'm salty about it, but for good reason, since I started this process a YEAR AGO and being a responsible adult sucks.

Also, my kid is coughing a lot this morning, so whatever he had over the weekend has possibly come back in full force. Going to send him, unless something happens between now and he has to leave. At least he has winter boots now.