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Diary of a Necromancer
Excuse me, I'm making perfect sense, you're just not keeping up
Day 170? All is lost. The Baroness has recovered from the poisoning attempt and roams the castle ranting at her guards to uncover the plotters. I fear this priest-hole may soon be discovered. Remember me as I was.


They're coming.

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feeling: silly silly

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Following on from other recent expenses and disasters, last week was bookended by serious DNW:

First, on Monday I was woken up by a call saying that Mum had had a fall at work. Fortunately she remembered to grab her phone as the Nice People were helping to sort her out and get her to hospital. Nine hours later she turned up home with a spectacular black eye but otherwise surprisingly little damage for a 75YO, IE no broken bones or serious trauma besides being kind of pissed off about the general situation. Apparently while she was checking into a building for a delivery the drone behind her in line set down his box and when she turned around she tripped straight over it and went down flat on a marble floor. Supposedly, someone, somewhere within this chain of events in insured for something, so. She still looks impressively horrible.

And then, the week's other episode of "What Fresh Hell: Medical" started when I woke up Wednesday to discover that Snip had pooped on the bathmat. She's done a lot of questionable things, but that's never been one of them. And she hadn't eaten her breakfast, which was even more suspicious for this cat. Over the course of the day it became apparent that she wasn't feeling so great, horking up blobs of spit and depositing looser and looser poops in the box. So I kept her under observation, fingers crossed that the episode would pass once she'd emptied herself out, because hey, cats do get the occasional attack of Angry!Colon like anybody.

But it didn't seem to be clearing up.

By Friday the "fuck you I'm busy" face had devolved into the "I don't have the energy to tell you to fuck off" face, which is the point where it seemed like a really really good idea to say we'll figure out how to pay for it later we are calling the vet now. And, nearly $900 later, that turned out to have been the right call: Snip was so dehydrated that she'd lost three pounds -- 1/4 of her body-weight, for those keeping score -- and in addition to various stop-oozing-out-both-ends meds had to be re-inflated with subdermal fluid like a camel's hump.

If we'd waited even until Saturday morning to bring her in she might not have made it.

Snip's on the mend now after a worrying weekend of further refusal to eat; she started begging for food again by Sunday morning, although for the first few hours she only stared at her plate like gooshyfood was some sort of cruel joke, and now she's back to something like her old patterns of demanding to be fed again every time the monkeys go even vaguely in the direction of the kitchen. And she pissed on Mum's chair, which is annoying but since it means she's back to her usual self we just cleaned it up... again... and wrote it off as a good-enough sign.

This is the second time I've been in the position with this cat, and the second time with a cat this year, that I've had to look at them suffering and try to figure out "how bad" it is, is it time to say hang the expense yet, how compassionate can I "afford" to be. And it really, really, sucks.

So that was my week. You guys?

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feeling: aggravated aggravated

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Mum just got an invite to a driving seminar for seniors.

Very tempted to tell them "Sorry, she'd be at work at 10AM. DRIVING."

feeling: amused amused

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I keep thinking "I should post more and get some of these hamsterwheeling thoughts out", but so far nothing's really cohered into more than a vague ball of rants that mostly come down to 'other people having veto power over my existence'. Never entirely sure whether the reflex that nobody wants to hear that is Brainweasels or just realism.

Did have the tangentially related thought that Billy Elliot actually has a horrible underlying message when you get thinking about it: Thatcher wins, the miners go to hell, but at least this one special snowflake got out. Getting very tired of 'feel-good' entertainment where nobody actually stops to deconstruct the idea of society as a bucket of crabs...

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feeling: pessimistic pessimistic

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Still dogpaddling in Suck, today's having been a flat tire -- A) expensive, B) a missed day's pay on top of expensive, and C) Mum underfoot and on edge all day which didn't do a damn thing for either of our dispositions. But looking on the bright side, at least I've requalified for something at least vaguely resembling health insurance for another year, which fear had been hanging over my head since, oh, April or so. I had had a half-formed notion to spend today sorting out what's next on the health to-do list, but, um, see above about "Mum underfoot etc". Spoons, I do not haz...


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And this is what happens when you miss one of the French Market carrots until the following autumn. I think it may have eaten some of my shallots.

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feeling: scared scared

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The last couple of months have been one of those "Someday, we'll look back on this and laugh... right...?" sort of experiences. The biggest inflection-point of Suck was the part where the condo board finally got fed-up enough about the past-due assessments to demand that Mum come up with a concrete plan for catching up, which meant weeks of stressing out about which bones we could actually disjoint from the budget to address the situation. Still not sure that this has resulted in a plan that's A), viable RE her always-variable income-situation, and that B) they've actually bought, because, as I have complained here many many times, nobody ever bothers to tell us anything. So, um, yeah. Direct stress, because Threat To Living Situation, and indirect stress, because In Living Situation With Someone Worrying About Budget, and if you don't think that's a major stressor, you've never lived with anyone who remembers when bread was a nickel. *ahem* Still Least-Bad Option, but I do find myself wishing I'd ever been in a position to exert any sort of control over the outcome of my life what-so-ever.

Another lesser but still wearying point of Suck is that the cats still hate each other, 3/4 of which now seems to be conditioning on Ren's part. (He has developed an unfortunate tendency to roll over and scream in a high-pitched voice whenever he can't get away from Snip fast enough for his liking.) He's still camped out in Mum's bedroom, and since he appears to have maxed out at a weight of 7.8 pounds he may well have to stay in there until Snip starts slowing down with age, which at 12 1/2 she's as yet showing no real signs of. (We joke that her probable cause of death will be "shootout with police".)

Ren is also a bit weird cognitively, in that he seems to have missed the developmental window where "monkeys making noises" = "I am being addressed" got handed out, because not only hasn't he learned his name yet, he's pretty much completely indifferent to most of our efforts to get his attention in any way at all, including "kitty, kitty" or "NO GET OUT OF THAT YOU LITTLE", and most cats will at least startle at that. We know his senses work perfectly well, because he can hear Snip coming from another room; he just doesn't give a rat's ass about either of his humans. (Is this why people think that "oh, cats can't learn their names"? We've certainly never had this problem before in 30 years of having them around...)

There's also been some "what fresh hell is this" medical Suck that hoooopefully was mostly just an ear infection, but is still troubling me enough that next up on the diagnostic checklist is an MRI, which I've been dragging my feet about scheduling because my Alleged Insurance comes up with a new way to keep me metaphorically off-balance about being covered every couple of months and the latest shoe-to-drop would probably be coming home from the MRI to find a letter in the mailbox saying I've been dropped as of the day before the Expensive Procedure. Because this is how my life goes.

(It also does not do anything for my ongoing Self-Esteem Issues that Mum's reaction to I need an MRI was, quoted verbatim, "That sounds expensive". Yes, Budget Woes, but seriously.)

There's been other Suck as well, but it's not my Suck to tell. In conclusion, I need a hug. And breakfast, because stupid thyroid-meds and empty-stomach rules, but mostly a hug.


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I don't recall taking this, and I'm the only one in this house who knows how to get that camera to work.

As far as I know...

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feeling: perplexed

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Garden continues weird. Not sure whether the cucumber is some mutant combination of this year's and the yellow ones that didn't come up last year, or simply blanched itself hiding in the tomatoes. The shallots, though, are doing more or less what was represented on the packet, even if they're taking their good sweet time about it.

About the carrots, the less said the better this year. The peas... took exception.

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feeling: confused confused

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Well, my perfect record of having the problem that stumps the tech guy is still intact after my internet provider finally made good on their vague threats to forcibly upgrade our service; three hours later, after it turned out to be yet another "if your internet is not working, use your internet to diagnose the problem" logic-bomb, plus a lot of ominous "...huh" when he looked over our wiring, it's all untangled and working AFAICT, although whether I'm back to anything resembling normal service is debatable, since my flight-reflex always kicks in after about an hour of questioning whether I even wanted the thing that they're trying to do to me in the first place and I'm still kind of adrenalin-shaky.

I'm not entirely sure whether this may in fact be the sane response, considering.


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