My mother-in-law's friend is a member of several "dull women" Facebook groups, which are, apparently, a thing. She shared an example, which was a story about taking her daughter to the doctor at 7am while wearing mismatched flipflops and embarrassing herself, told with deliberate irrelevant details.
It was a funny and charming niche of the world to learn about.
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My father-in-law has passed away. He was a very sweet man who liked to tell and hear a good story.
I am heading to the Chicago-area with my wife to serve as her emotional support animal for the duration of the trip. We aren't quite sure how long we are staying, but it's likely to be a couple weeks. I miss my animals already.
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Physical health continues to be a menace, and it's hard to think in words.
I am currently exploring the idea of inhabiting pleasant sensations in my body alongside pain, and it's made me aware that it has been a long time since I acknowledged and focused on pleasant; I have been so on my guard not to make pain worse. It was an idea from an interesting movement specialist.
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I am back! Yikes, norovirus did not play nice with my guts and chronic pain. Wimsey has been tirelessly helping me recover, so it probably took longer than it otherwise would have.
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Socks of the day.
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Not dead here! Got a nasty case of norovirus and have been too nauseated to think. Apologies for simply vanishing--by the time I realized it was going to be bad, I was wholeheartedly engaged in an intense relationship with the toilet. Will come back in a few days, likely.
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Me: I wonder how I could hold my boob in a certain direction so I hurt less.
Trans-Fediverse: We got you.
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And then I wondered, are there any skin equivalents to Velcro? Some tiny tiny skin-focused hooks that just fit into skin cells and grip without causing too much damage? I really wish I'd gone into microbiology some days.
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For whatever reason, hooking my left boob against a surface with some friction and sinking down so that it stretches up considerably eases the horrible pain in my left side. Bras in no way accomplish this because the boob weight just ends up on my shoulder. Also, it isn't just a lift; it's the even stretch upward of skin.
I thought of duct taping as a way to accomplish this, but even medical adhesives annoy my skin...
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There were also real birds making the usual morning racket of chirping and cheeping, but I did not pull out Merlin to sort through them at the time. The first bird I recognized visually was a male cardinal. The red is a dead giveaway...
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[#]FirstBirdofTheYear fiction style! Yes yes, more Dungeon Meshi.
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It is also why I enjoy scenes where people eat so much; even in terrible times, a little comfort in the warmth of a tasty drink or a pleasant flavor. I just. It's so tiring to read books that never take a break from discomfort.
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I've become impatient with books where no one ever gets to have a good time or a moment of fun. I enjoy the heck out of Ursula Vernon's books not just because of the banter but because that banter means people are enjoying each other. And people are curious about the world around them and react to what they discover with wonder or pleasure sometimes!
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In a rare spark of genius, I discovered that I could fling handfuls of kibble across the yard, and in 30 seconds, make my dog a treasure hunt. It takes her about an hour to get tired of snuffling around, and she returns to the house with her busy mind a bit more tired out.
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Today I learned that I can hear the difference between water heating in the teamaker for green tea and water heating for black tea, and thus saved my delicate dragon well from being burned. A useful small power.
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Eeeeeeee the mushroom has a flower!
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I wish Ursula Vernon's Temple of the White Rat was real. I could find a place in a religion devoted to solving problems.
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I am experimenting with voice to text. The native android app on my Pixel 7 does not work on Slack or on Tusky. I get an error saying that I'm not in a recognized typing field. Any advice for apps that work better? I will pay if need be. #accessibility
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We are at the airport. An Indian family of 10 plus individuals are all in various sentinel positions around a bathroom, using it in turns, presumably for social reasons I don't understand. They wave me on. None of them, however, are good enough sentinels to stop me from pushing open the door where their poor grandmother was using the bathroom.
I will now die of embarrassment. It was good to know you all.
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Uterus: revving its Mad Max engines in preparation for an epic ride
Me: oh no
(All gender and agender friendly post if you, too, I wish to complain about your uterus)
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