(no subject)

I got the forms 99% done last night. I just have sign and date them in front of a witness and mail them. I ended up taking Ativan to get through, and later on, I took Amerge when finishing the forms didn’t get rid of the headache. That helped some, but I ended up taking Naproxen, too, around 9:45. Scott made me some completely plain oatmeal because that was the only thing we could come up with that might be safe that close to bedtime and that wouldn’t make my nausea worse.

Scott was really surprised to find out that I’d made him a sandwich for work today in spite of the headache. I think it was largely that he didn’t understand how I could do that and not be able to muster the energy to do what I knew I needed to do to take care of myself. It’s different, though. Doing stuff for me is exponentially harder. Plus, making him a sandwich is something I can do without entirely seeing what I’m doing.

I have one Ativan left. I’ll be seeing my psychiatrist tomorrow morning, and I don’t see any reason she wouldn’t give me another prescription. I filled this one in mid-April, so it it took me four months to go through thirty pills even with how awful May was and our vacation last week.

I just really, really hope that this isn’t the new normal for me. The last year… I know it’s the breast cancer and my family’s health issues/injuries and all of that, but I haven’t been this bad since I stopped working. I really, really didn’t miss the joint aches and the headaches and the difficulties getting myself to do things that are absolutely necessary. The main difference now is that I can try to sleep at just about any time when I think it might work. I hurt less when I’m getting sleep.

Scott’s work called last night to try to get him to come in early this morning. He pointed out that there was someone else who’d actually signed up to come in early if someone was needed. He and the supervisor both knew that that person only signed up because they were completely sure they wouldn’t be needed and because someone signed up for a bunch of come in earlies won’t be asked to stay late. Scott pulled carts yesterday and worked twelve hours on Monday. He was pretty thoroughly done in.

We might have people over for games tonight, but I’m not sure. There was one person who said they definitely couldn’t come, and I think it’s possible that someone else isn’t able to come. I suppose it’s a wait and see sort of thing.

In spite of the trash going out yesterday, something smells a little funky in the house. I don’t think it’s in the kitchen because I can smell it mostly in the bedroom. The house layout doesn’t make kitchen to bedroom odors that likely. Maybe I just need to do laundry? I know I haven’t dumped anything damp into the hamper, but who knows what Scott did. He’s prone to dumping freshly used towels in there.

My sister called this morning. She’s having serious anxiety fallout from the car accident she was in about two weeks ago. Some teenager took a left turn into her car and rolled it so that it ended up roof down. The airbags saved her life. Her only injury was a broken thumb, but the car was totaled. Now, every time she drives or rides in a car with someone else driving, she’s emotionally convinced that somebody’s going to hit them, just out of the blue like the kid did. I suggested seeing someone about that because needing xanax in order to ride in a car is not sustainable. I’m pretty sure that it’ll be easier to address early rather than later, too.

My sister also thinks that our brother didn’t tell his girlfriend why he didn’t introduce her to us for so very, very long. Her impression is that the girlfriend thought that he expected a bad reaction from us rather than that he was just not wanting to share. He prefers not to tell the rest of us much about his life, generally speaking, but in this case, that was a jerk move because it left her thinking that, because she’s black and twenty years older than he is, we were going to be hostile. (And, even had he told her, I’m not sure she’d have entirely believed him. I wouldn’t.) She thought we didn’t even know he was seeing someone. I think we’ve all made it clear that she’s welcome and wanted at this point, but I don’t know. I kind of want to take my brother by the shoulders, shake him until his teeth rattle, and ask him what the hell he was thinking. She must love him because I can’t see anyone putting up with all of that for any other reason.

Part of me wants to go back to bed right now even though I got eight solid hours of sleep last night. I’m pretty sure it’s migraine hangover rather than anything else because it’s mostly that I feel kind of mentally foggy and that my eyes feel tired. The rest of me feels fine and awake.

(no subject)

What an odd editorial decision— I’m listening to part of a multi CD set, a retrospective of the artist’s works during a particular period. There are multiple versions of several songs in the set. Sometimes, the versions are grouped together. Sometimes, they aren’t. Other times, some are together and others are elsewhere.

I think things might be in order by recording date, but I’m not convinced that that’s justification. I can see a musical historian or musician, professional or amateur, wanting to contrast versions and finding it easier when they’re grouped together. I can also see listeners like me who are trying to get a taste and decide what we think or people who are listening just because they like the songs feeling kind overwhelmed (and, dare I say, bored) by multiple versions all at once. I’d just like to have all of the versions together or all of them jumbled up so that the same song didn’t play two or three times in a row.

I’m glad this set comes from the library because I don’t think I’d want to listen to it through repeatedly. Right now, I’m in the middle of a run of five different versions of the same song. There are two sets of three later in this CD, and it started with the same song twice (and there are four other sets of two).

(no subject)

I followed the instructions on the bag of lentils and added four cups of liquid for each cup of lentils. The liquid didn’t absorb. The lentils turned to mush so that, when I stirred everything, I had soup about the consistency I’d have expected if I’d pureed something. It’s still a little too hot for me to get much sense of its flavor. I used chicken broth, thyme (because I couldn’t find the other herbs I thought we had), and a little sesame oil. I also added some lemon juice once it became clear to me that I had soup. I probably ought to add salt, too, but I really want to taste it properly before I do something like that.

I have no idea if we’re having people over tonight or not. Two people definitely aren’t coming, and I think a third said she couldn’t when we got together two weeks ago, but the fourth person hasn’t said anything at all yet. I don’t know if that means he’s coming or if it’s that he said he wasn’t earlier and I’ve just forgotten.