Well, slow magic.

"It's not magic, it's chemistry. You can tell because it's so slow."

Respect the chemistry, gums of Tim.

Good to hear all is well, gum-wise.

Sending no more bleeding~ma to Tim. And a belated Happy Birthday.

Last night I walked down to PF Chang's hoping to sit at the bar and have dinner. But the place was beyond packed and there was NO BAR. There was no way I was going to wait for a table for one, so I went back to the steak house at the hotel. I figured if I just ordered an appitizer and soup, it couldn't be too much. I added one drink and my bill was $50!!! For just me, so french onion soup, crab stuffed portobella and a whiskey. That will be fun to explain on my expense sheet.

But still, NO BAR?!?!? There are plenty of other restuarants with bars in Salt Lake...

That is so wrong.

Taking a sick day just because. I'm thinking about rearranging my bedroom.

But still, NO BAR?!?!? There are plenty of other restuarants with bars in Salt Lake...

P.F. Chang's probably didn't bother to get a liquor license. They are horrifically hard to get in Utah, and if you try to set up a bar in a restaurant you have to put up weird walls to block the view of anything alcoholic from the gaze of children. It's called the Zion Curtain, and many restaurants aren't willing to modify their designs, especially retroactively, so they don't bother with booze.

Gah, way to wake me up, Dad. I spent last evening with him, had a nice time, and went to bed around 11:30. Slept heavily because of the (really good) hamburger I ate at our late dinner. Woke up to the phone ringing at 8AM. Dad announces, "I think I'm going to die today."

WTF, Dad!

Basically, he's depressed. It's been a shitty year, his wife died, he doesn't really have a job to do anymore, and he's having cognitive issues. Woke up during the night unable to remember the names of Gene Kelley and Donald O'Connor. So he calls me to scare the crap out of me.

After I ascertained that there's nothing physically wrong, just his emotional state, I told him to get some exercise, engage with his neighbors, and do some paperwork he needed to do. And then I emailed my brothers and told them to call him.

He won't, of course, talk to a grief counsellor. And I'm not sure how much that would help, anyway: he doesn't have a lot of emotional intelligence, nor is he comfortable talking about feelings AT ALL. Argh, argh, argh.

Gah, Consuela, that sounds a lot like Tim's dad (though to a more extreme degree). He's in a perpetual state of "not feeling well." Tim talks to him at least twice a week, and every time, literally every single time, his dad says he's "not feeling well." And so Tim goes through a litany of physical ailments, and it's nothing physical, other than "feeling tired and run-down." He's depressed, he lives alone in the big house he shared with his wife, he still misses her, he doesn't get any exercise, he doesn't have enough interaction with people. And there is some dementia going on, too. It's mostly short-term memory stuff, which *can* be a symptom of depression, but it's very likely early stages of dementia.

Anyway, it's very frustrating, because he doesn't want to see a doctor, doesn't want to take anti-depressants (which he might not need; talking to a counsellor would do him a world of good, IMO), doesn't want to move to somewhere where he would be around more people.

So I understand your frustration.

Yesterday was such a frustrating mess that today I decided to not try and do parts of my job since I am the only one here to get phones and am covering a few job aspects of the plant manager while he is in training.

It is going much smoother. I even got a few papers off my desk.

Oh, man, Consuela. I'm not even sure how I'd react to that. I don't want to know.

I was on the way out the door with my new Night Vale mug when I realised--I don't buy shirts with 'ships on them. Why do I have a Carlos and Cecil shirt, then?

Maybe...maybe I didn't buy it? So I checked the packing slip and it's a gift from my sister. Doesn't say much for my faculties that it took me 12 hours to work that out. And she did kinda hint at it...I do kinda suck. Let me go thank her.

In my meagre defense I feel hella grotty this morning. My headache feels like a pincer that's forcing my vision out of focus, I'm hungry and nauseous and just finished my last anti-emetic pill (dropped and almost lost it in my kitchen) and really wanted a sick day.