Things have been piling up for a while. Capt. S is in hospital and there's complications. I can say no more on my blog just in case hateful people in her life decide to do horrible things.
Wedding arrangements, Outaversary arrangements, trying to hold my tongue about interpersonal bullshit for Beloved's sake. It's all a heap of straws on this camel's back.
And it turns out that the doc I thought I had is MISSING 30K words [I have been through this before with the same dang doc, damnit] and getting the full version is either going to be archaeology or reconstruction. I am hoping for archaeology because reconstruction is going to SUCK.
We still need money for the cat's dental fix, and even the Outaversary is going to put my funds in jeopardy.
Mum STILL needs tech help but I have no idea when she's going to actually want me there to do so. Because this is actually the safest time for me to visit, and the whole fear about me being a carrier is roughly backwards. I'm at my least infectious right now and all I'm dealing with is fallout.
The good news is that I'm almost done with the pill form of my roids, so maybe LESS shaking like a little wet dog. I have to make an appointment with the quack to get the referral anyway, so I can ask about the roid puffer then.
It works to clear the pipes, yay, but I could do with less tremula to be honest.
I am streaming ASAP and dealing with the rest of the bullshit one pie at a time.