Today would have been Hubby's 60th birthday. My SIL sent me a "Happy 60th birthday, Big Bro!" message, followed with a How are you? message. It's her loss, too, she lost her big brother, she knew him longer than I did, but would it be rude for me to wait a day or two so I don't say "Gutted and weeping, thanks, how are you?" And to not acknowledge the birthday when I do contact her?
Spike's Bitches 48: I Say, We Go Out There, and Kick a Little Demon Ass.
[NAFDA] Spike-centric discussion. Lusty, lewd (only occasionally crude), risqué (and frisqué), bawdy (Oh, lawdy!), flirty ('cuz we're purty), raunchy talk inside. Caveat lector.
Oh, Connie. What a hard day. I think you should do whatever feels right to you. No doubt she was trying to be kind, but you still get to react however you react. Put yourself first here.
Hair is done. One marvel shirt got dye on it. I'm not too upset it's one of my least favorites.
Now I'm wishing I didn't have such a plain wardrobe. But I can't run out and buy new things so I'll try and get creative with what I have.
Argh. A different student this morning made an appointment and then didn't show up. And I didn't have time to wait to get the prescription filled, so I figured I'd get it filled after work, but I was wrong about what time the pharmacy closed, and I had to stay late to grade midterms (which I should not have had to do, but that a whole other rant), so, no painkillers tonight, and my kneecap is just on the edge of dislocating itself. And, depending on how it's feeling tomorrow, that might make driving difficult, which means getting to the pharmacy will be difficult.
I really really hate these rules that say that controlled substances have to be paper prescriptions, rather than electronic. It makes everything so much more difficult.
Ugh. Pain brain fog sucks. Can't make words work.
Don't thik I'm safe to drive to pharmacy like this. And my car is under snow.
Cab?
Yeah. Nap first, though.
Oh, Hil, I'm so sorry that there are so many obstacles between you and relief!
I cannot begin to re-emphasize how goddamn much I thought therapy was going to be like going to archery at Camp Butterworth but actually turned out to be the fucking Hunger Games. Or, like, you think you're going to rearrange the living room, so you move the couch, and then there's a hellmouth under the couch. And the hellmouth is made out of your goddamn parents.
An accurate assessment. So much fury.
get some Seabreeze for washing off errant dye. My old colorist tipped me off to it, and it really is a miracle. It washes dye off ANYTHING (your forehead, your hands, your sink...)
Oh, good to know!
Also, 42 degrees is too cold to walk, even just a mile, and now my knee is angry at me. Perhaps it needs chocolate-covered peanuts.
Hey, if I can go for a walk in 42 degrees, you can, Cincinnati. Get out there! (Or don't, y'know. I was dragged out of bed by my over-enthusiastic neighbor, or I wouldn't've gone either.) My left knee has been complaining lately, so I'm gonna try feeding it chocolate cake.
Connie, I agree with Steph, put yourself first here. You're not obligated to react in any way just to make her feel better.
Not showing up for an appointment with a professor is unacceptable. When I attended college the prof had office hours, and if you couldn't meet them at that time, you were pretty much out of luck.
Absolutely, that. Now two students have done this in two days? Seriously, I say set your office hours and quit making special effort for them. You're not whining at all, Hil. You're entirely justified in being upset.