Brain currently booting in Safe Mode

My ears are plugged.

Not a little, not one yet the other is clear, both, both are plugged. It started yesterday. When I woke up, only one ear was stuffed, and the other was fine. Over the course of the day, both plugged up and then got entrenched that way. I had hoped that I could sleep off, if not both, then one to clear up.

NOPE.

Having my ears stuffed up often happens when I have a cold. I have a day or two of it, then it starts to clear through a series of gentle fizzy pops (like a sink full of dissipating bubbles but dry). This time, I have had no joy, and the problem seems to be compounding instead of alleviating.

I am not in any pain, it's more discomfort. My hearing is no bueno and that's the most frustrating part. Everything is muffled, like I'm wearing noise-cancelling headphones (the big ones that cover the entire ear) or underwater. Some pitches are painful, especially if sustained (like they are in music). I have the sneaking suspicion that if I put on my own pair of noise-cancelling headphones, I would hear nothing. That might be worth exploring at some point today. Or not; with only partial hearing, I feel isolated enough as it is.

I am supposed to be waiting for my kid whilst he's at a speech language appointment right now. Instead, I am sitting in front of my laptop, *this close* to tears.

Last week, I was told that the SLP needs to see the boy in person, as there are some sounds she's not certain he's making correctly over Zoom. And I get it, I do; technology can only take you so far, and there's always going to be a level of interference that is not present in person. Fine, thinks I, I can make this work. Bussing in, my usual mode of transport, is no bueno, as it's at least an hour one way with too much waiting time when the weather is this shitty. Since I can get reimbursed for transport, I opt for a cab.

Call the cab company 45 minutes before the appointment, figuring that it will be MORE than enough time between the wait for the car and the drive there to make it, even when the roads are less than great (as they are now). After 35 minutes of waiting, and already knowing that the drive is going to be longer than usual, I call the cab company and cancel the ride, not one minute before the cab arrives, far too late to be of any use to us.

I did everything right and still managed to fuck everything up.

I emailed the SLP and completely expect to be charged for the appointment as a late cancellation. It's only fair. So now I'm going to go get my coffee made and try to warm up and not feel so fucking useless at life.

My hands, y'all, my hands suck.

For far longer than I should have, I have dealt with decreasing grip strength and bouts of pain. Is it an RSI? Maybe. Is it arthritis? Possibly. Is it fucking annoying? DEFINITELY.

I have to pace myself when I have a lot of sewing as so many of those actions hurt after anywhere from five minutes to an hour depending on the task. Usually crochet isn't too bad and doesn't require a day of rest between working on something. Now? Yeah, that's a no from me, dog. I'm not even going to attempt any knitting for the same reasons. Oh, and typing this today? Uncomfortable, which is a new one on me.

I have an appointment week after next and will have to take it easy for the next few days. As a stay-at-home-parent, this does not fill me with joy, because I feel that I have to justify not working by, well, working. And what does the work require? THE USE OF MY HANDS. *cries* At least there are leftovers for dinner tonight.

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.