I could never watch a horror movie living alone! Even with the dog now.

They’re my go to movies for plane trips. Nothing less atmospheric than that.

We gad to get a new title for my sister’s car so she could sell it and it was so easy! I was genuinely shocked. The hours spent searching for it, or even just the stress of making sure you know where it is for all those years. Wasted!

I'm envious of anyone who can just fall asleep.

SAME. DH can do it and I just lie in bed communing with the insomnia fairies.

I'm envious of anyone who can just fall asleep.

SAME. DH can do it and I just lie in bed communing with the insomnia fairies.

Us, too. Tim falls asleep like he's been drugged, while I, the one who actually takes bedtime meds, stares resentfully at the wall waiting for unconsciousness to take me. Although right now I can't be too resentful of Tim, because he wakes up 3-6 times a night because of his back pain.* Which reminds me —

Did I mention Tim has a tentative date for his surgery? It turns out that his surgery requires 3 surgeons, not 2, and coordinating the schedules of 3 surgeons is complicated as shit. So it's scheduled for the first week of August, BUT the surgeon (surgeon #1 [Surgeon Prime?]) knows that Tim's pain is getting worse and his sleep is really affected, so he's going to try his best to move the surgery forward. Hopefully it can happen in July, or even June.

*(Tim tends to avoid opioids because opioid epidemic, addiction, blah blah blah. He knows I'm a hardass about adequate pain management being the bare minimum a health care professional should provide a patient with severe and/or chronic pain, and sometimes that pain management includes opioids. There's nothing noble about suffering through pain when there are options to treat it. [Obviously I recognize there are a lot of health care professionals who act like anyone who asks for pain meds, even if they have documented chronic intractable pain, are just junkies who are lying. Those health care professionals should quit their fucking jobs.] Anyway. He's at the point where he's going to ask Surgeon Prime about pain meds just for bedtime, so he can get a decent night's sleep. And the fact that he's willing to ask for pain meds means he's in a lot of pain. My poor honey. I know what that pain is like, and I hate that there's nothing I can do to alleviate it.)

I’m really hope this is the road to recovery and relief!

I hope Tim gets pain meds and a closer surgery date.

I got home and M's mom said she had to talk to us. Turns out a lady at her church has a Persian kitten she is giving a way and offered it to her. We both said that if she wants to rehome Cheeto or Scrappy she can bring home the kitten but our house is too small for 6 cats even when they are indoor/outdoor and no one wants to add in the expense of more cat food, litter, etc.

"But a Persian Kitten! When can I ever get one again? This is once in a lifetime." Which may be true but our house is full up.

I will say the fact she talked to us about it instead of just bringing it home.

It turns out that his surgery requires 3 surgeons, not 2, and coordinating the schedules of 3 surgeons is complicated as shit.

That sounds like a logistical nightmare, but I'm glad you guys have a schedule!

Persian kitten

That she talked to you about it first is a good sign.

I can understand that the appeal of New! Cute! Kitten! is strong, but "When can I ever get one again?" is just self-delusion. Pfui.

...our house is too small for 6 cats

Yeah, hold firm on that. I only hope it works.

I have a story about why I react strongly to mention of Persian cats.

When I started 2nd grade, we had just moved to a small town north of Charlotte NC. My mother hated it there, and part of her way of coping was to acquire a fancy pure-bred certificated long-hair Persian kitten, named him "Sikander-i-Azam" (which is Farsi -- Persian, get it? -- for "Alexander the Great") with the express intention of raising him and putting him to stud. (Is that the term for cats? I dunno.)

So he wasn't neutered. And my mother didn't put in the time or effort to socialize him, including not getting him accustomed to being groomed, or even handled. So he grew up hating to be brushed. He would get matted, and he hated both being matted and getting de-matted.

He would yowl, long and loud.

He would yowl to be let out, then disappear for three days into the undergrowth behind our back yard. He would come back with maximum matts and yowl to be let in, and then yowl to be fed. When food was presented, he would sit in front of the bowl, look at it, look at me, refuse to eat, and yowl some more.

When my mother split, she left the cat behind. I don't remember whether Dad ever had Sikander neutered. Probably not, money was tight. He did eventually re-home the cat, but I don't remember how, or with whom. We were both glad to be rid of Sikander, though.

Wow, those are some vivid memories. I can recognize the prejudice that resulted, but I still haven't overcome it.

It turns out that his surgery requires 3 surgeons, not 2, and coordinating the schedules of 3 surgeons is complicated as shit.

That sounds like a logistical nightmare

He believes in Go Big Or Go Home. Surgeries with 1 surgeon, that take only 1 day, are for mere mortals — Tim's hoarding as many surgeons as he can, for his 2-day surgery. (My brother has to have fairly simple back surgery this fall, and when I told him about Tim's surgery, he said "I'm feeling a little challenged to ratchet up my surgery parameters!")

The surgery group that's doing his surgery is really outstanding for the specific type of surgery that he needs (scoliosis surgery and spinal reconstruction), and they're the group that did my comparatively puny back surgery literally 20 years ago [pause to acknowledge how fucking old we all are], so I am 100% confident that this is going to go very well for him. It sucks that he needs such complex surgery, but his quality of life is going to skyrocket. He should get a couple of inches back (his spinal curvature is 25-30 degrees, so he's shorter than me now [I'm 5'6"]), and even though he has to have a lot of vertebrae fused, he should be able to go back to hiking and camping within a year, after the bones have fused. Surgeon Prime said that he should be able to drive within 2-3 weeks after surgery, and he *may* be able to go back to work as soon as 1 month if his job can come up with a desk job for him (which is actually feasible -- all the parts inspection that his department does involves a shit ton of blueprints and other documentation, and all of that gets done in a really half-assed non-centralized fashion, but they could hand it all over to him and let him wrangle it at a desk). Though 1 month seems a little fast to me; 2 months before he can go back to a desk job seems more reasonable. (He probably wants to get back to work after 1 month so he won't be tempted to stab me. I spend all day with me, and sometimes *I* want to stab me.)

I have such a high level of "right on" about this surgery for Tim and how it's going to make every damn thing so much better. I know it's a lot, and I am sure it's nerve wracking for you both, but especially since you 100% know from personal experience how good his people are... July (fingers crossed) can't get here soon enough.

I really want Tim's surgery to just go as smoothly as possible. Come on july!

So my Aunt W (the one on FL) fell at her assisted living place and broke her hip. She's having surgery , and she's already told Mom she doesn't think she'll come out of the hospital alive. I'm not that pessimistic but I'd be really surprised if Aunt W is alive next year. She's the oldest and her relationship with mom and the other siblings is fraught. And the way she's treated Mom since KY cousin's death has just totally destroyed what is left of their relationship. My uncle is flying down there (he's the youngest and has the best relationship with her) on Friday and will be there awhile. But mom will have to go back to Florida at some point.

I haven't seen my aunt in decades so im not sure how I feel.