Prior

Mangling Eleanor, to her evident enjoyment. Oh, now she's suckling my robe, as she does. Peace and snuggling in the kingdom.


Met with the gamers last night, and I played along, eventually providing a diversion that freed the other players from the asylum. Don't ask. But it was fun. My character I called Isabella Plethbert. Not a name I paused to think about, making it up on the spot. When I looked up the parts later, it fit better than I could have imagined. Pleth, as in plethora, a sufficiency. And bert is related to bright. So, a plethora of brightness. Isabella is related to Elizabeth, which is a god-oath, god-abundance, but so old it's gotten fuzzy.

Still failing to keep my attention away from the political situation. It's begun to feel like closing my eyes while driving - I know I'd feel better, but it doesn't feel safe. So, I'm allowing myself until we have assurances before I let it go. I want to turn away, I really do. I know it doesn't help. But I don't want to be slapped from behind, keep the devil in front of me.

Mild day, did a fair bit of walking. Still dealing with fatigue and flashes. Got a few tasks done, rain barrel in the garage, tomatoes pulled up, weeds destroyed. Next door neighbor little girl birthday party today, book given, toddlers had audible meltdowns. Inevitable. Dylan and I relieved we will never have to bring one home, so that's alright.

Other neighbor, diagonal, telling me her woes, through the fence. Lots of woes. Still worried about the mess left by their removal of the stink tree in their fence on our side. I reassured her, didn't matter, no sweat, and offered a surgeon's name for her husband. Soap opera people, not all of their own making, only about 75%. Some people really don't know how to live simply, or stay happy. I assume it is a certain lack of prioritization. Some medical conditions make this worse, which I wish I didn't know was part of my neighbor's many issues. She's not a bad person, but she is fucking depressing. Her husband was born without one lower leg. Now he has rotator cuff problems in his shoulders, since he uses crutches and not a prosthetic, even though he has one.

Being me, and an RN, I'm used to a lot of TMI. I can deal with it. But she pushes even my tolerances. Ah, well. PRTTFO*. No, no, I was simply reassuring. Gave her a name, a shoulder surgeon who seems to have all insane, morbidly obese and otherwise strange patients. He's good, and takes all the hard cases, but his patients are nuts. My friend's crazy stepmother wound up with Dr. T, and I didn't even have anything to do with it. Worked with Dr. T yesterday, so I had him fresh in my mind. Really, a good guy, thorough, slow. Oh, so Dr. Slow. Nice to work with, except knowing you'll be late that day. Hands out Christmas cards with cash inside to staff, which is nice.

Cats a huge comfort this week. Eleanor sleeping between us. Moby taking over Dylan. Love hearing him purring so loud. He's chosen the best of us, such a good cat.











*Patient Reassured, told to fuck off.