Good luck, Julie!

It's been rather humid all day and it smells of honeysuckle outside. I'm going to enjoy that because OMG, I am so just mentally wiped. I hate hormones and obligation.

First hummingbirds of the season at the feeder this evening, yay!

My ED corralled us this morning to tell us about his dead brother, who was the last living blood relation of his, and how he d'.id the one thing he'd sworn not to do, whihc was shut down and keep away his support system, which is his fellow coworkers.

I was on the edge of tears on his behalf.

I was also thinking "how is this a good time to say "sorry, I may lose my license and this may impact my workload since I can't legally drive the company vehicle to the transfer station"". I also failed to complain about the DB DD letting her interns use my desk without asking for my permission. I didn't argue it at the time since the president of our current fundraiser was talking with said interns, and the next morning is news of a dead brother. Which makes my complaint small potatoes. But. bitch, seriously.

I overheard snippets of a conversation about tents, and her response was "I'm not used to not being able to say "give me your most expensive tent". Honey, who do you think you work for? You do actually want to make a profit on this fundraiser, right? Asking for a tent with skylights cost money, check it out.

OK, emailed my original mortgage broker, asking about refi to set a lower rate. Baby steps. Thank god he was amenable to doing all transactions on the internut. I don't need more phone calls.

I did about 30 cold calls to the parents of our new probationary class. We have a parent meeting on Saturday, so I was calling to make sure it was on everyone's calendars. Of the people who answered the phone, the majority were all "what do you want" at first and then "ohhh, hi, yes, wonderful" once I introduced myself. I had one parent hang up on me before I could even get my name out, let alone explain why I was calling.

I have 4 people who didn't have voicemail, so I need to try again tomorrow. Who doesn't have voicemail these days?

I have it. I just can guarantee I'll check it (not counting work.)

Another reason I should not be a parent: phone calls.

First hummingbirds of the season at the feeder this evening, yay!

Ooh, pretty! Did you get any pictures?

Also, catching up, damn, Matt, I am so glad you're okay. Awful, awful soccer mom.

And, oh, Suela, I'm so sorry; vibes to you and find-a-point-of-agreement-and-get-your-shit-together~ma to the paid professionals who are supposed to be caring for your mom and reducing your stress load instead of ratcheting it up.

hormones and obligation.

This sounds like the title to a poem, or something.

It's a love story.

Looks like we'll probably be moving Mom to a SNF in the not-too-distant future. Caring for her is killing Dad, and the % of time she doesn't recognize him is ratcheting upwards.

She's also awful. But that's not new. It's just more constant.

Thank fuck, my brother the doctor is coming out tomorrow to consult. And we're all agreed that brain surgery is off the table.

I have to go find that article about how doctors die, again: they don't keep running around for more treatment. And they die peacefully and not drawn out, after months or years of pain.