Category: the apartment

It Ain’t None of Your Business

I woke up this morning with congestion and post nasal drip, which isn’t much fun. It’s been a while since I’ve had sinus issues, and it occurs to me that this bout might have something to do with my compromised immune system. Great! Another lovely side effect of my illness and its treatment…but of course, as always, it could be worse. (Theorem: bad situations can always be worse.) The Flonase is kicking in now, and I feel a lot better already. My coffee is delicious, and the coffee cake is quite tasty (chocolate marble swirl, if you must know(

I was tired when I got home from work, but I had a very productive day at the office and managed to get everything done that needed to be done for the end of the fiscal year. (Much worse for my supervisor than for me, and I do try to make it easier for her, but there’s only so much I can do.) She’s on vacation next week, which leaves me in charge–I’ll worry about that when Monday rolls around again; the last thing I need is to worry about work over this holiday weekend. I did run some errands on my way home, and managed to get some things done around the apartment as well, but there’s more to do as always. I’ve got some laundry going right now, and it’s also “wash the bedding” day, too. Paul’s planning on going to the gym this morning when he gets up, and then we’re going to probably go see the latest Jurassic movie as a treat to ourselves. Just before bed last night I started writing a post about the holiday, and the signing of the Declaration of Independence, and how I don’t really feel particularly proud of my country anymore after yesterday’s passage of the heinous legislation that takes us back to pre-FDR days…which was such a great time in our history for the poor and the working and middle classes. I’ll probably finish it this morning and post it–else I’ll have to save it for another time, and is there a more appropriate time to look back as well as to mourn for the country?

There’s the added plus that being critical of the administration will no doubt get me on a list, if I’m not on one already just for being a gay creative with socialist beliefs and values.

Ironically, we streamed a movie last night which was a fun, enjoyable watch–Heads of State, starring John Cena and Idris Elba and Priyanka Chopra, with Jack Quaid in a hilarious supporting role. It’s a silly premise, and it’s an action-adventure movie which opens with Air Force One being shot out of the sky above Belarus, and the President (Cena) and the British Prime Minister (Elba) escape with parachutes and have to get back to civilization to save the NATO Alliance, while trying to figure out who is the insider who helped set up the attack on Air Force One and sent assassins to finish them off. Lots of action, lots of funny situations and dialogue, and a very charismatic, likable cast made it a lot of fun to watch. It’s not going to ever make AFI’s Top 100 Films of All Time list, but it was a terrific diversion for the evening. I did stay up later than usual–the whole 4th of July entry thing, which may actually be better for the newsletter than the blog…decisions, decisions. It’s cloudy this morning, but according to the weather there’s no chance of rain for the weekend, which is a bit disappointing as I love the rain, but what can you do?

I want to finish reading Summerhouse this weekend, and make headway on The Crying Child and Sing Me a Death Song, too. My next read is going to be Megan Abbott’s El Dorado Drive. and will probably do another Jay Bennett for y/a and the next reread will be maybe something by either Mary Stewart or Phyllis A. Whitney, as I love them both and I want to write more about them both. I also want to get some writing done this weekend, as well. I don’t feel tired this morning, which is a nice thing, and Sparky isn’t demanding either my desk chair or my lap (yet, at any rate) so I am going to work on the kitchen a bit this morning while having Youtube on so I can get caught up on the insanity of the world (someone really should write a series of essays about where we are as a nation and what led us here and call it As the World Burns) which will inevitably make me angry and/or depressed and will spoil the rest of the day and maybe I’ll just not do that? There are always LSU highlight videos, after all.

In other exciting news, I found Go Ask Alice on a streaming service, and Paul and I agreed that a rewatch for the first time in fifty years could be campy fun; it was a message-oriented made for television movie based on a fraudulent “diary” novel that hit you over the head with its message and probably was the first real ABC Afterschool Special (I knew the book was bullshit when I read it, and was only eleven, but it fooled a shit ton of people).

And on that note, I have dishes to wash and laundry to fold, so I am going to bring this to a close and open the 4th of July draft to work on while doing the chores. Have a lovely holiday, Constant Reader, and I’ll be back shortly!

Adorable out actor Brandon Flynn, whose career is really taking off.

Windows

It’s the eve of July 4th, and all through the house–not a creature is stirring (besides me and Sparky), not even a mouse! (Thank God. The lack of mice means Sparky is earning his keep. I’ve not even seen a flying roach in the house this year.)

Sigh.

I woke up feeling sinus-y this morning, with a bit of a sore throat and a runny nose. I took a Claritin a little while ago, which hopefully will clear this all up. One can hope, at any rate. I was tired last night when I got home, so was kind of useless for the evening. We finished watching Olympo, which picked up the pace significantly in its final episodes, and I’m not sure there’s going to be another season, although they did leave most everything hanging in the meantime, and there was a cliffhanger. I am also feeling a bit worn down this morning as I sip my coffee and Sparky climbs all over me and my desk. It’s going to rain this afternoon (and most of the day tomorrow, it looks like), and I have some errands to run after I get off work–so I don’t have to run any this weekend. We’re thinking about going to see Jurassic World Rebirth tomorrow (Jonathan Bailey and his slutty glasses are a big draw); and I must confess I’ve never seen anything Jurassic on the big screen. (We are also going to see Superman next weekend.)

I am hoping to get some rest this holiday weekend. I think my lethargy this week was a kind of hangover from the trip last weekend, despite having Sunday as a recovery day. I keep forgetting that I am older than I was and my body has already been through a massive trauma this year already that I am still recovering from as well. It was probably too close to the illness for me to do all that driving and exertion; but I’ve also never been that ill before so am not sure how long the recovery will take–or if this is the new normal. That’s the lovely thing about getting old without a user manual; you always wonder if something is a result of getting older and this is how it’s going to be for the rest of your life. I am hoping, at any rate, to do some writing tonight and over the weekend, finish reading the three books I am currently in process of enjoying, and pick out three new ones. I got the new Megan Abbott, El Dorado Drive, this week and it may hop to the top of the pile. My reading goal for the year is to reread a bunch of Gothics, read/reread some young adult novels, and get through the books in the stack on the end table in the living room before moving on to the top shelf of the left bookcase (who am I kidding, once I clear off the end table I’ll make a new stack on the end table). I also have a lot of other books from the past year or so that I’d like to get caught up on, but I don’t seem to read as fast as I used to, and I am not going on another road trip until October when I can listen to another book.

I hate not having the energy that I used to have.

And I have another infusion a week from Monday. Hopefully I am getting used to them, and the second won’t make me as tired and lethargic as the first one did. We shall see. I still need to go get lab work done before my next appointment with my primary care physician in August, and I need to figure out which of these bills I need to pay and which ones I don’t–I hit my deductible but am getting bills still, which is kind of confusing? One of the things on my to-do list is to get this all figured out. I just don’t want to pay anything I don’t have to, you know? It’s so fucking exhausting, you know? Heavy heaving sigh. But at least work today is going to be fairly easy; we have a light schedule so I can get a lot of my Admin work done and get things caught up for the end of the fiscal year. I do have to run some errands on the way home tonight–mail and a relatively minor grocery run–but after that, I am hoping to get the chores done and the house in some better semblance of order.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely July 4th Eve, and I will most likely be back in the morning.

Nuno Gallego, formerly of Elite and now starring in OLYMPO

Walking in L.A.

But nobody walks in LA, as the song says. I did a few times, and always heard this song in my head as I strolled down Santa Monica Boulevard. I do miss my annual visits to Los Angeles to sign at A Different Light. I don’t miss the stress and anxiety of signings (will anyone show up? Will I make an utter fool of myself?), but yes, I used to walk down Santa Monica from my hotel and shop on my way to visit the store.

Ah, the good old days…

But it’s Pay-the-Bills Wednesday, always a fun exercise in depression that always ends up with the plaintive cry where did all my money go? At least I can pay them–for now, at any rate. I just really hate paying them and trying to remember all my user names and passwords; nothing makes me feel older than not remembering things.

I was tired when I got off work last night–and actually, was kind of dragging all damned day yesterday. I’m not sure why, either; I was kind of mentally lethargic–and when I am that way, I inevitably come up with new ideas…which is my brain trying to get me to not stress too heavily about not doing any writing: but at least I had some ideas! Insanity, but that’s the way my mind has always worked. I’ve really been wanting to write some more essays for the newsletter; I already have several done that I don’t want to send because I don’t want to become that annoying person dropping into the subscribers’ (I can’t believe I have subscribers!) inboxes all the damned time. I don’t think all my book/movie/television reviews need to necessarily go there? I don’t know. I originally decided to use the newsletter to write longer form essays–ones that were too big to go here–but somehow that evolved into my writing longer reviews of books and movies and television shows there as well. Heavy heaving sigh. I guess I am having a newsletter identity crisis….but now that I am up this morning, I’m thinking I don’t need to write reviews there; I can do shorter ones here and do the longer ones, the ones where I really have something to say about the art, on the newsletter.1

We watched some more of Olympo last night, and there was finally some more gay storyline; Roque, the gay rugby star, is now getting involved with a teammate (Sebas) who is only now beginning to experience same-sex desire, which should be interesting to see play out. Both are gorgeous, too–so was the closeted guy Roque was hooking up with until the closet case turned on him–and as Paul said, “the most interesting characters are the men–the women are unlikable.” He was right, of course, and I don’t think that is gay misogyny at play; they really are unlikable. It’s not as good or as involving as Elité, which took off like a speeding freight train from the opening of the very first episode; this one is more of a slow burn–the primary story of the season is doping, as it would be in most shows about up-and-coming Olympic hopefuls. There are some curiosities about the show–little mysteries that might become bigger story-lines as the show goes on, but for now, the doping is the primary story–as well as the homophobia Roque is experiencing on the rugby team and in the school.

Plus, I love that name: Roque.

I only have one more day of work this week after today thanks to the 4th of July holiday, which seems kind of muted this year. Not surprising, since the entire country is being reshaped in the image Christian Nationalists have been pushing for since Brown v. Topeka Board of Education was decided by a decent Supreme Court, as opposed to the conservative activists currently sitting on our present-day court. I mean, it’s not like the country has ever lived up to its ideals; our country’s sad history of racism, homophobia, and misogyny goes back all the way to Columbus arriving in the West Indies (Spain and Portugal really never get enough credit for kicking off colonization and inventing racism).

I started thinking our empire was beginning to crumble in the 1980’s–I just hoped it would wait to collapse into authoritarianism after I died.

Ah, well. Somber thoughts on this July 4th Eve Eve. I try not to talk about politics or what’s going on in the world; if you come here to read this blog periodically where I fall on the political spectrum shouldn’t come as a surprise to you. I try to leave talking about politics and world events out–I am hardly an expert, and adding to the angry on-line chatter isn’t really appealing to me: there’s no point in preaching to the choir, and anything I say isn’t going to convince someone who disagrees with me that they are incorrect (and vice versa; I don’t engage with conservatives because I will never agree with them on anything, really), and all it does is get me riled up. Sure, I’ll sometimes give in to the urge and go all Julia Sugarbaker here–ignorance and deliberate stupidity get under my skin like nothing else, but I try to resist the urge because I prefer to save my energy and time for productivity. I’m back to not engaging with anyone monstrous on social media–I find blocking trash more satisfying than scoring points off a troll anyway, which is performative in the first place, since all you are doing is showing your followers how witty and smart you are.

Sigh.

Maybe it’s just me, but it seems like this is a more New Orleans-style summer than we’ve had in years. It’s already miserable outside when I leave the house for work, and even more miserable later in the day when I’m running errands. I know it’s worse because my sinuses and allergies are really kicking in this year–wet and humid with the thick heavy air, the heat, and the sun beating down mercilessly from above; we’ve also had a lot more rain (another sign of insane humidity) this year than we’ve had in the last few. I think the weather, coupled with trip recovery (I was in a car for almost twenty hours over four days), is why I’ve been so out of it this week.

I kind of hope we have some delightful thunderstorms this weekend, too; so I can snuggle under a blanket in my chair while reading. Sparky has been very attached to me since I got back–demanding my lap to sleep in when I get home from work every day, wanting to ride on my shoulders while I do things, and being incredibly playful, too. He really is a dear thing.

And on that note, I am heading back into the spice mines. Have a lovely Wednesday, Constant Reader, and I’ll probably check in with you again tomorrow morning. Till then!

Seriously, where were all these muscular pro wrestlers during my adolescence?
  1. Which means I’ll be moving some of those reviews from the drafts on my newsletter page to the drafts here; and deleting some of the ones in the draft files here. ↩︎

Destination Unknown

Tuesday and back to what passes for normality around here. My eye appointment went very well; my eyes (despite their inability to see much) are very healthy and there’s no trace of either glaucoma or Stargardt’s disease; there is some slight cataract development but “nothing you need to worry about for fifteen or twenty years.” *Whew*, am I right? I feel bad still for my sister, of course, but it’s a relief to know that I most likely will not be losing my sight as I get older.

I also have to share this piece about my friend Mark. Mark and I have been friends for well over twenty-five years. I also knew his late husband Johnny; I remember when they first became a couple. Mark was my workout partner for about ten years or so; I had to abandon our workouts when I went back to work full-time. If you’ve been around this blog since its beginning all those years ago, I helped Mark and Johnny gut their house and remove all of its water-damaged contents; Mark was the basis for Scotty’s best friend David in Bourbon Street Blues and has appeared in numerous others of the Scotty books. And yes, it is deeply ironic that the Archdiocese of New Orleans let him go for the morality clause as they try to navigate bankruptcy and financial settlements for covering up all the child rapes committed by their priests. I first saw this on Facebook when Mark posted it; it was picked up by one of the news stations here; the Guardian on-line, but I frankly enjoyed the editorializing evident here by the Friendly Atheist newsletter; imagine my surprise when it dropped into my inbox talking about what happened to my old friend Mark! Mark was the one who took me to Charity Hospital when Paul was attacked because I was too upset to drive. (I miss Mark. I don’t see him as much anymore and that is mostly my fault.) Mark is a good guy, and this pisses me off–even more so because Johnny is dead and Mark is no longer in violation of his contract. I don’t think my opinion of this Satanic archdiocese could have gone any lower–and here we are. Maybe it’s time to write a book addressing the child rape cover-ups…if it isn’t already a cliché.

I proofed my short story for Crime Ink yesterday and sent the corrections back in; which also required me to reread the story (“The Rhinestone”) again for the first time since the copy edits, and of course, I’d pretty much forgotten all of it. It’s a good story, an excerpt from Never Kiss a Stranger in which I had to fill in a lot of the background…since it’s already established in the longer piece; I winced a bit at the background before remembering oh yes, you had to add all of this in because no one would have a clue what was going on without the back story, and of course I was worried that I was “telling” too much rather than showing. I’m not sure when I am going to get back to Never Kiss a Stranger since I want to finish the Scotty and Chlorine before I can give it my full attention, if then; there are some others that are itching to be written and finished as well and I always seem to get distracted from my planned schedule…I had wanted to get The Summer of Lost Boys done this year, but I don’t think that’s going to happen…and of course, now I want to write about the cursed lake, too.

Sigh.

But no more defeatist talk around here! It’s absolutely okay to have days where you need to take care of yourself and not get as much done. I did take care of the kitchen last night, and started working on the living room again (I also found a lost remote control we looked for everywhere; it’s been awhile since the ghost played a trick on us…and now I am missing something else entirely). I also made a to-do list, picked up my mail, and made groceries. So, yeah, I should have been tired when I got home! Cheers and applause for everything else I did, thank you very much. I also went to bed early; I was falling asleep in my chair and staggered upstairs for a lovely night’s sleep. I’ll go straight home from work tonight and finish everything I started last night, and hopefully do some reading and writing. (I did write a bit yesterday–not very much, mind you, but it was something.)

I have a severe lack of motivation this week, and that’s going on the to-do list; find my motivation and reawaken my ambition and my sense I can conquer the world.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Tuesday, happy July, and all that jazz. I’ll be back tomorrow.

The Hall of Mirrors at Versailles; something I’ve always wanted to see

No More Words

Monday morning and I have an ophthalmologist appointment before I head into work. I slept super-great again last night, but didn’t really want to get up this morning. The appointment is pretty far out for me in Kenner (near Clearview), and I have no idea what time I will get to work. This is to check me for Stargardt disease, which my sister has and is genetic. I also have errands to run after work tonight–post office, make some groceries–before I come home to an apartment and all my chores. I was very tired yesterday–drained from the trip and all the driving over three days or so–and was able to only get some filing and organizing done, as well as ordered groceries for delivery and put them all away. The sink has dishes in it, there are dishes in the dishwasher that need to be put away, and the floors are always the worst. If I can stand it, I can do a bit every night before really focusing on it Friday, which is a holiday I don’t feel much like celebrating or acknowledging this year, given the dismantling of everything since January. I also have to get the bills figured out–I am terribly confused about these medical bills I am getting–and have a shit load of writing to do.

We started watching Olympo, a Spanish series about an athletic training school, and it’s quite fun. Not as fun as Elité, but we’re also only three episodes in. The big mystery of season one seems to be the use of performing enhancing drugs, with a swimmer collapsing and another swimmer determined to find out what’s going on. There’s also queer content; both gay and sapphic, which is very fun. Naturally, the cast is all gorgeous young Spaniards, which makes it very pleasant to watch. I’ll let you know how it goes.

I need to finish reading my current three reads (Summerhouse, Sing Me a Death Song, The Crying Child) before moving on to my next three. I also need to get back writing again; it seems like months since I’ve worked on anything, which is silly–I worked on writing last week, but the trip makes everything seem like it all happened an eternity ago, which is one of those weird time things I’m becoming more and more aware of the longer I live. I also need to clean out my email inbox, pay some bills, and pull my life back together–I’ve not been on top of things since I got sick after Saints and Sinners, really. Definitely need to. make a to-do list and a grocery list before heading out this morning, and maybe do some things around here before leaving for the appointment.

I did go down a research rabbit hole on Youtube again yesterday, though–more 1970s research, and I was also remembering the Bicentennial and how it really started overpowering the zeitgeist after President Nixon resigned and was pardoned. Next year is the 250th anniversary of the signing of the Declaration of Independence; I am a little surprised that it’s not as big of a deal, or even a deal at all, so far. But we were a different country in 1976 than we are now, aren’t we? I was still in high school, we’d just moved to Kansas, and the Olympics were coming up, too–Montreal and Nadia Comaneci–so that was a busy summer for me, and one of major changes for one Gregalicious. (If you think it wasn’t a major change to go from a suburban Chicago high school to a rural one in Kansas, think again.) I also have Alabama stories bouncing through my head since I drove home on Saturday.

But now I have to get back to the spice mines and make that to-do list before cleaning up for the appointment and a short day in the office. Have a lovely Monday, Constant Reader, and I’ll check in with you again tomorrow as the month changes and the summer ratchets everything up even hotter than it was in June.

It’s going to be a looooong summer….

For All Tomorrow’s Lies

Alabama.

I love Alabama, despite the way the state continually disappoints me. It’s such a beautiful place, with its kudzu and towering pines and broad rivers and that startlingly gorgeous red dirt. (Red dirt is often used to symbolize poverty and ignorance and bigotry…but it’s also gorgeous. I’d much rather have red dirt on my car or my shoes than regular black dirt any time.) Driving through the state I am always amazed at the strange range of country homes, everything from crumbling abandoned wrecks to expensive looking McMansions to trailers of all kinds and all conditions, the creeks and mimosa trees and hollers, sometimes filled with out of control kudzu (kudzu has fascinated me since I was a child) and sometimes just bushes and flowers and wild blackberry bushes growing out of control. It always inspires me when I go back to Alabama, reconnecting with my roots and where I am actually from, or, as we say in New Orleans, where my people are from. I also find myself spending a lot of time visiting graveyards where relatives are buried, while my father once again explains who many of them are (I love visiting the graves of my mother’s paternal grandparents; there’s a picture of them posing with four of their children and they are one of the most gorgeous couples I’ve ever seen; their daughters look just like my mother–and by extension, kind of like me–and seeing that picture always pleases me so) and stories about them, and I know he enjoys remembering the family history while passing it along to me. I enjoy the stories of the county, too; as we drive around the backroads and past places from his and my youth (“we took this road home from Auburn when you were just three months old, remember it?”–Dad humor, sure, but I love every bit of it) and I marvel at it all, hoping that it’s all being imprinted on my faded and dying memory. I really do want to write more about Alabama (which is what I say every time I get back from there, isn’t it?), and yeah, I do need to get back to writing, don’t I?

And some of that county and family history? Let’s just say the county is a lot more like Peyton Place than anyone from there would care to admit.

Dad also brought me a case of Grape Crush in bottles, which was so sweet and thoughtful (you can only get cans here, so Dad always brings me some from Kentucky and yes, I am very spoiled and always have been). We drove down to visit my aunt and uncle (another seven hours total in the car on Friday), so am very worn out this morning, now that I am back home; the drive back yesterday was nice but was very tired by the time I got home. I did listen to John Copenhaver’s Hall of Mirrors in the car (more on that later), but spent the evening watching My Mother Jayne, which was very well done (I always have been interested in Jayne Mansfield) and we really enjoyed. After that, I got started unpacking and putting things away and yes, I really do regret not thoroughly cleaning the apartment before I left on Wednesday. So instead of chilling out and relaxing today, I’ll be cleaning and making groceries (ordering them, at any rate), and hopefully reading and writing some.

It occurred to me last night that I didn’t get to all the queer books I wanted to read for Pride Month, and it also occurred to me that just because it’ll no longer be Pride Month doesn’t mean that I can’t read queer books; that’s the trap of having these celebratory months–I do not only read Black authors in February, after all, so why do I only focus on queer work in June?1 But I am glad I caught that I’d not finished Hall of Mirrors–and I know how it happened. I was reading it and about to go on a trip, and I always keep the books I am reading and the ones that are on-deck on the end table near my chair. I’d gotten down several potential books to take for the trip, and after I packed the books I decided to take I put the others back, and I must have reshelved Hall of Mirrors then; I was convinced I’d read it until before this trip, when I couldn’t remember how it ended and Audible suggested it–and when I got the book down from the shelves again there was a bookmark in it marking my place. Shamefully I downloaded it to my Audible, and decided to listen to it on this trip. There were three chapters left when I pulled up to the house; I finished it after watching My Mother Jayne…and then I fell asleep in my chair.

What a glorious night’s sleep I enjoyed last night, too! And it’s always nice to be home with Paul and Sparky. I didn’t make myself sick on the trip, either–remembering to have protein drinks and to take my pills and rehydrate properly. It was hot as fuck up there, too.

But I am going to bring this to a close, so I can get things done and groceries ordered and prepare for the week. I have an ophthalmologist appointment first thing tomorrow morning that requires me to drive out to (shudder) Kenner before I go into the office…and of course, Friday is the 4th of July so I have a three day weekend this week, too. Huzzah!

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Enjoy your Sunday, Constant Reader, as I intend to enjoy mine, and I’ll be back in the morning.

Staircase in the step pyramid of Pharaoh Djoser at Saqqarah
  1. I don’t, but it seems like I put a lot more pressure on myself to do during Pride. ↩︎

The Metro

Wednesday, and in about five hours I’ll be heading out on I-10 East to connect to 59 north to make it up to Where-we-are-from, Alabama–with pit stops for gas, food, and bathroom, it should only take between five and six hours. If I owe you an email, it probably won’t come before next week, as I come back here on Saturday and then Sunday have to prepare for the coming week.

I will be listening to John Copenhaver’s Hall of Mirrors, which I am embarrassed to admit I’ve not yet read. I had started it, but got distracted by something–oh yes, I meant to take it on a trip with me and left it sitting on the counter instead of putting it into my backpack, so had to read something else, and then never got back around to it, which is disgraceful conduct by a reader, frankly. But I am grateful for forgetful me of the past because now I can enjoy it on my drive. I had thought about getting caught up on Donna Andrews or Carol Goodman or Lisa Unger; I am frightfully behind on all of them as well–I really don’t want to think about all the wonderful authors whose work I have fallen behind on, because it will just depress me.

I did do some work on a project last night doing something I’ve not done in a long time; mapping out a book and writing out biographies of the main characters, as well as the through-line of the crime. I’d gotten to the point that I didn’t really need to do this anymore; the characters would often reveal themselves to me as I wrote about them, but when you’re not writing as much as you used to and need to get back on that horse, go back to the things you used to do when you were trying to become a writer, that made the writing actually easier to do rather than trying to think it all up as you go. I’ve really gotten lazy with my writing, but a lot of it is, as I said, the muscles were always pretty much warmed up and strong and raring to go, so the extra steps I used to take when I was getting started no longer seemed necessary; I am also working on an outline–I can’t remember the last time I outlined a novel. But here we are, and I’ve always been about adapting to get things done and make progress. I think it is going to turn out pretty well, to be honest. I’m kind of excited about this and getting back to the Scotty, in all honesty. Soon, my precious, soon…

Ironically, I was too tired to pack last night and didn’t want to get out of bed this morning, either–but I also realized, this morning, that it actually made more sense to come home after work and pack, and leave from home rather than from the office. Leaving directly from the office would shave an entire five minutes off the drive, and is that five minutes really worth the hassle than leaving an hour later this afternoon will create? No, it really wasn’t. And while I always try to be time-efficient–a lifelong habit I am trying to break now because it’s part and parcel of my anxiety, and letting go of anxiety is always a good thing–getting there around seven instead of six? I’ll still be tired from the drive and will end up going to sleep early, so what difference does it make?

Progress, I think.

I also doubt I’ll be around here much until I get back Saturday, so probably the next entry will come on Sunday. I think you can handle it, Constant Reader, so until then–adieu.

Massive Ramses II at the Egyptian Museum

In My Dreams

Tuesday, and tomorrow I depart for Alabama and chile, I have so much to fucking do before I head out on the highway that it’s not even funny. I have to run errands after work tonight–mail, minor groceries, gas–and then I have things to do around the house all night, too, unless I want to come home to a hideous mess Saturday that I don’t want to deal with. All I am going to want to do when I get home is relax, cuddle with Sparky, and watch television. (I say that but I never ever don’t do things; I am always getting up and putting something away because I still have trouble sitting still; but it’s getting much easier now that Sparky likes to use me as a cat bed in my easy chair because I don’t want to disturb him.)

My doctor’s appointment went well. I have to do fasting labs again at some point before the next appointment (August 22), and I also got a referral for a hip X-ray. During the illness but before the hospitalization, I was losing my balance a lot and falling (or coming close to it). One day during this period, as I was walking to the gate to get a delivery I’d ordered, I lost my balance and before I could stop myself, I fell into the wooden fence hip and (bad) shoulder first. The leg has been kind of sore ever since–it felt bruised–and this weekend, noting that it still didn’t feel right, I realized that the leg wasn’t sore, but was actually numb on the outside from hip to knee. Doctor thinks when I felt against the fence I may have pinched a nerve (which is what I was thinking), or I may have an inflamed bursae (liquid filled sacs). Here’s hoping it’s nothing truly serious and can be treated simply and easily; I really don’t want to add “hip surgery” to my medical bills this year.

The great joys of getting older. Seriously, why isn’t there a handbook, for Christ’s sake?

Monday I am going to see an ophthalmologist to check me for Stargartz, a macular degeneration disease in which those who have it gradually grow blind. It’s genetic, and my sister has it, so you can see why I am a bit concerned. During the illness’ worst rampage and for a little while after, my vision was getting bad; and I’d just gotten a new prescription earlier this year…so not being able to read things on the television (most streaming apps have an image to click on for what you want to watch with very small print on it; I couldn’t read the print) or losing my corrected distance vision was concerning…but as I’ve improved physically, so has my vision, so I am not as concerned about this appointment as I was a few weeks ago. I mean, I am worried–I do not want to lose my eyesight–but it’s not as pressing as it was, if that makes sense? But…best to get it checked out. I’ll probably get my hip X-rayed on a Friday afternoon.

But last night I slept well, and am facing down everything I need to get done tonight. I definitely need to make a to-do list, for sure. I need to pack, for one thing, and make groceries and get the mail and clean up this disgusting apartment. Last night I was a bit tired when I got home, and decided to watch the last episode of The Mortician, which I’d kind of slept through on Sunday night (turns out, I only missed the last fifteen minutes). Paul came down and fell asleep on the couch, and I didn’t really want to start a new show when I am leaving tomorrow, so I just kind of let Youtube doom-play on the news and left-wing influencers, while scribbling more notes in my journal. I also went to bed relatively early as well, after doing some research on-line. It’s very weird to research a period of time when I was actually alive, and being reminded just how misogynist and racist that time was (the homophobia goes without saying because there was no gay rep, good or bad, anywhere; we were erased from the public consciousness like we didn’t exist); the commercials are almost entirely populated by white people, too. It’s nice to see how things have improved on those scores in the decades since. I suppose I should be glad that I find these things both startling and horrifying at the same time; that means I’ve retrained my brain to expect diversity, inclusion, and equity (ooooh, the DEI word!) in popular culture.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines (after getting some more coffee) for the day. I’ll check in again tomorrow, but no promises after that until I get back home!

Ephesus ruins.

Lost in the Crowd

Monday and it’s off to see my doctor this morning, woo-hoo! This is a follow-up to the blood work that said I was anemic; I don’t think it’s anything to be much worried about since I’d been sick for so long and being unable to keep much food down clearly impacted some of my vitamin and mineral levels. The bills from the illness and all of the concomitant charges have also started arriving; got a handful of them on Saturday, which was kind of staggering to see 1) how much I owed and 2) how much the original bill was. YIKES indeed. Heavy sigh. No idea how long it will take me to clear up this lovely additional financial burden, but nevertheless here we are. Dad said he’d help, so that’s a good thing for me to remember as I start trying to make financial plans for July and August.

LSU WON THE COLLEGE WORLD SERIES!!!! Woo-hoo! GEAUX TIGERS! This is their eighth championship, and their second in three years. They beat Coastal Carolina 5-3 yesterday to sweep the series and bring another trophy home to Baton Rouge. It was an interesting game–Coastal’s coach and first base coach were tossed out of the game in the first inning, which never happens–and of course, their starting pitcher was the asshole who dogged LSU in that press conference the other day. Hey, bitch, they scored five runs off your ass before you got sat down…how do you like us NOW? And you were supposed to be their star ace pitcher. Have a nice trip back to South Carolina.

The game pretty much sucked all the air out of the apartment, which is still a mess this morning. I didn’t get much done yesterday, but I did spend the morning working on some things and scribbling in my journal. I leave for Alabama on Wednesday afternoon, so I definitely need to be getting things done around here tonight for sure; I hate coming home from a trip to a messy house. I am going to listen to either Donna Andrews or Carol Goodman or Lisa Unger in the car on the drive over and back, which will be lovely–and I didn’t get much reading done yesterday either. I was drained after the game and the win, and we ended up watching The Mortician on HBO MAX, which was very interesting. I feel asleep during the third episode, and then went up to bed shortly thereafter, but I was intrigued by the documentary and what the actual guy had to say about dead bodies and corpses–“it’s not your loved one, they are gone”–was brutal but accurate? The death business in this country has always struck me as a little weird, but the death business isn’t for the dead, it’s for the living. Ironic to watch that show and have some thoughts about the death business when I’m getting ready to go visit a grave, isn’t it?

I’ll probably take Summerhouse with me to finish reading before bed every night, and next thing you know Pride Month will be over. I also need to get some writing done tonight when I get home, and since I don’t have any errands to run, that should be relatively easy. I am not in clinic this morning, either, which helps me to not feel so drained at the end of the day–I love my clients, but the interactions I have with them kind of wear me out by the end of the day–so I can come home and get stuff done. The apartment does look better than it did originally coming into the weekend, but it still definitely needs some work. Heavy sigh.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines for a half-day. Have a lovely Monday, Constant Reader, and I’ll check back in with you again tomorrow morning.

I had a crush on young Andrew Stevens in the 1970s and it’s easy to see why.

Masquerade

Sunday morning and all is quiet in the Lost Apartment. Sparky’s been fed and I am almost finished with my first cup of coffee, and it’s about time to put bread in the toaster. Sparky let me sleep later than usual this morning, which was nice, and now I am down here in the workspace waking up to face a new day and week. I have a doctor’s appointment tomorrow morning, and then of course I am heading to Alabama Wednesday afternoon (this trip has strangely snuck up on me) to see Dad for a few days before returning back here on Saturday. Paul has his trainer this afternoon, so he won’t be home, so I should be able to get chores done while I am restlessly watching LSU play today for the College World Series championship.

The Tigers did win last night (hence a shot at winning the whole thing today) over Coastal Carolina 1-0; ending the Chanticleers’ 26 game winning streak. It was, as pitchers’ duels and close games always are, intense and nerve-wracking. The Tigers scored their lone run in the first inning, and made that lead hold through all nine innings behind pitcher Kade Anderson, who played the entire game and threw the last pitch of the game. I had seen Coastal Carolina’s team’s press conference, where they mocked and dragged LSU–which is an incredibly cocky and ignorant thing to do; that’s the sort of thing that motivates your opponents to whip your ass and last night, that’s what happened. I hope it’s all over this afternoon, frankly–but if there needs to be an intense and nerve-wracking third game Monday night, I’ll be watching, GEAUX TIGERS!

I did some work yesterday, and hopefully will get some more done today. The house is a mess–I ran errands and had groceries delivered–and so I need to put everything away and I also need to do some things, like make watermelon gazpacho, and clean out the refrigerator and pick up the rugs and so forth. I also need to do some filing to clear up the clutter around my workspace; and I don’t have to go anywhere today, which should make things a lot easier around here to get done. I also spent some time with my y/a reread, Sing Me a Death Song (Jay Bennett was truly a great and under-appreciated writer), and started The Crying Child by Barbara Michaels. I’m hoping to get further into Summerhouse today as well–but that kind of depends on how much writing I am able to get done this morning before the game (I should write before the game, because I can always read during the game) and how much cleaning I am able to do this morning to set the apartment to rights. I kind of was a bit on the lazy side yesterday, in all honesty, and let things slide a bit because I was busy relaxing.

And apparently we are now involved in yet another Middle Eastern conflict. Jesus fucking Christ, how do we as a nation never learn from our mistakes? Weren’t all the LIES we were told in 2003 about Iraq bad enough? Yes, I am old enough to remember that, and all the other bullshit the Right pushed through Congress (the PATRIOT Act needs to be repealed, and clearly Homeland Security needs to be abolished) as a result of 9/11, using fear and intimidation tactics to silence any opposition. Remember the Chicks? Whenever someone on the Right bemoans “cancel culture,” I do like to remind them they invented it–and the Chicks were fucking right; have we ever as a nation collectively apologized to them? But at least the mask is completely off; the last election was all about racism and misogyny. THANK GOD we didn’t elect the biracial woman, right? Miss me with your MAGA regrets–and I hope all your sons are lining up to enlist.

I love that we have money for a war but no money for Medicaid and Medicare. Choices.

Yesterday afternoon, I watched two documentaries while doing other things, and yes, I rewatched Surviving Ohio State, which deserves its own entry (and paying more attention made me realize how much worse everything was there than I thought, even after a scattered initial watch) and one called Southern Fried Lies, about criminality in a small Arkansas town (it kind of reminded me, at the end, of Mildred Pierce), which was also kind of nuts and crazy. I do recommend it–those small, rural town tales always make me smugly thing of all the odes to idyllic small town life, and how it’s so much better than urban life…sure, Jan, sure. (I always think what fucking small town are you talking about?) I have an idea for a murder story in a small town of less than a thousand people, and yes, that small town is in Kansas. (I have a lot of Kansas and Alabama stories to write; funny how I write so little about Houston and Fresno and Tampa.)

And on that note, I think I am going to head into the spice mines for the day. Have a lovely Sunday (we’re in yet another heat advisory), and I’ll be back tomorrow morning before I see my doctor.

Baryshnikov. Don’t really need to add anything, do I?