So Belovedest was in line behind someone whose leggings had skeleton hands on the back. Specifically, skeleton hands that were cupping/supporting the ass cheeks. They described the garment to me when they came back out. (Side note: Belovedest and I have somehow developed a hobby of noticing awesome clothes that people are wearing, mentioning them to each other, and then discussing them. It's great fun.)

After describing the leggings, they asked the important question: Who in the Locked Tomb series owns these pants?

The awful teenagers would have needed some time to mellow before being able to properly appreciate these pants, so they're out.

Coronabeth has the sense of humor to wear them, but the style she's been allowed to develop is shiny and maximalist, and I don't think anyone would give these to her.

No one would give these to Ianthe either, but she would wear them.

Judith would probably snicker. Marta could keep a straight face. Neither would wear them.

8th house. Hahaha no.

6th house. Cam could keep a straight face, Pal would snicker. Otherwise it probably falls into the same category as the shirt that Pyrrha was going to give Nona. (We haven't reached that point of the book yet.) So, a tick in the Ass Joke box on the wall.

5th house. Now we're getting somewhere. Magnus would get them for Abigail, as a joke. They would end up as shared pajamas.

9th. Gideon gets them for Harrow, because that's hilarious. Harrow is not a wasteful person, so she does not immediately light them on fire (plus, fire in a contained habitat: not funny). Ergo, Harrow has to wear them when she has worn literally every other scrap of clothing she owns and she is forced to do laundry. Which means going out in some kind of public. Wearing these. Oh, the agony. (Gideon thinks it's hilarious.)

Conferred with Nora about her recent Big Project.

It's Gluten Week! I got several boxes of Girl Scout cookies the other day when I was picking up prescriptions. We got burgers the other evening, and we miiiiight be able to get the beef lo mein before everything times out, or we might not.

I still have a little medical correspondence to catch up on. I did send in my supplement questions and the requested amounts of the two specific ones that I'm taking; I still need to respond to the question about the others and ask for that referral. I sent the message that I'm still getting neck and shoulder cramps from strenuous activities like sitting up for more than X hours (and today proved that X is like 3 sometimes) and therefore the cyclobenzaprine is still useful, alas my primary care is out on leave this month.

I can sleep with earplugs in, but I don't think it's good for Belovedest because I do need my book volume turned up. This year's new Bird Pun Mysteries will be Between a Flock and a Hard Place and Rockin' Around the Chickadee, and both of those sound like fun. The turkeys in particular.

Belovedest had to come in and rescue me this evening from an overzealous cat-sitting (me, sprawling; cat, sitting). I could have probably worked my way free, but I wasn't quite feeling up to it.

Games: we got this month's new Mythic without much trouble, and this week's Starry pet was eminently rescue-able without resorting to The Gnome Trick. And fortunately I realized that we'd already fully ascended it before buying more than one set of extras (and we needed the blue pet food in any event). I did miss out on today's Adventure Board due to leaving it until too late, but I got two sets of dragonite in a row from the dungeons so I'm not too sad. (Our strategy: pick the order we open dungeons in, and then don't vary from that, so we get dragonite from it sometimes instead of never.)

Today: therapist, then shopping.

Therapist is recovering from Covid. I gave her some firm advice about not starting to exercise for Quite Some Time for better chances at avoiding Long Covid.

Since Belovedest is at the local convention this weekend, I was for shopping solo. (And I sent my chemo team a message about renewing my placard.) As I headed out, we were getting Wintery Mix. It got worse as I approached the Costco. I contemplated turning around, but we were then looking at Friday, or the actual weekend, and ugh.

There was still some slush on my bumper when I came out, but there was less precipitation by that point.

Stopped by Home Goods and Trader Joe's; the former had those rings you put on your rolling pin to govern the minimum thickness of your dough, and the latter had the bread I hadn't realized I needed to ask for at the Wednesday night trip. [Edit: woops, fixed]

Safeway was fine. I had a hankering for roast beef sandwiches, which I decided to indulge in a constructive way (sliced lunch meats, rather than pre-formed sandwiches). I'd forgotten the list in the car, but fortunately most of the tracking was taking place in my head rather than on the physical object.

I beat Belovedest home, but just barely. My cocktail spikes had arrived, so once I run them through a dishwasher I will be able to skewer small fruits, vegetables, and other cocktail garnishes properly. Because I am no fun, I got the set with the plain ball ends (because they seem less of a dishwasher problem than the others). Because I am slightly fun, I also got a small set of sword style ones, because that's Belovedest's favorite kind. I just don't expect washing them to be my favorite activity.

Next on the list: a dishwasher cup to support the washing of smaller items. I just have to send it to Belovedest.

I'm apparently one of the people who reacts to Zometa with flu-like aches and poor temperature regulation. I accordingly canceled Friday.

OneTouch Verio Flex is basically useless without the app, which demands all sorts of personal information. Like, you can certainly take a reading, but you can't even mark it as before or after a meal without the app.

It was at that point that I registered a complaint with the pharmacy.

The reason I dislike the <details> tag in comparison to the DW-specific <cut> tag is because my browser fails to tell my mouse that the wee triangular fucker next to the summary is interactive.

I should probably file a ticket. Sigh.

Edit: https://github.com/dreamwidth/dreamwidth/issues/3338

Today's accountability project from therapy was shame-cleaning. Therapist asked how the paper sorting thing from our last session was going along. Instead of paper sorting, I'd pill bottle sorted and labeled.

You could argue that for the first however long post-therapy this afternoon I worked on pill boxes instead of papers, but I think I've fairly comprehensively put enough time into papers by this point in the evening that I can say I worked on papers. Even though the pill boxes needed doing too.

I have red folders labeled 2022, 2023, and 2024, as well as Scrap and a blank red label. I have a blue folder labeled Chemo 2023.

The dated folders are getting miscellaneous medical stuff, mostly prescription. The scrap folder is going to grow once I start sorting the other folders. Even if I'm keeping all of the "you got this medication on this date and your insurance saved you this much" slips, I certainly don't have to keep all of the medication information sheets. My general rule for those is I keep one copy of the medication information sheet per year that I am taking it in, or perhaps an additional one if it's updated at some point during the year. At some point this will get condensed, but right now I'm just trying to make sense of the chaos.

Today I prepared boba for bubble tea, and it is being delicious. I am having it with chai spiced milk tea.

In chemo news, the cold cap is working insofar as I am getting a fuzz of new hair in the sparse space on top of my head that I can only really perceive when I hold the whole small chunk up and see how it stops being there after about two centimeters.

When I get to the bottom of this bin, I may start doing an internal sort of the red folders. It's also possible that bedtime may hit first.

Yesterday was busier than usual!

Alex had an appointment. I took them to the appointment. I had a prescription to pick up. My original plan was to drop Alex off, go get my prescriptions, then come back for Alex.

"How long should I stick around to make sure everything's fine?" I asked.

The answer was: long enough for Alex to register their complaint about the automated appointment confirmation system, which does not allow for any kind of variance from Appointments Proceeding As The Calendar Reads, including, crucially, the absence of that doctor from the day's schedule.

The practice has been told, repeatedly, that missed calls are not sufficient notice that something about the appointment has Gone Wrong.

So I re-parked myself nearer the door and we eventually proceeded to get my prescriptions.


Since I was feeling a little better in general, I poked the free offerings on Craigslist. There was someone with a couch cover. Now, the Dragon-Sized Chair is cursed with peeling leather of some variety. We have been discussing the need for a cover. A couch cover sounds like a thing that can be cut or otherwise pinned down to size for even a Very Large Chair. So I sent them a message with a time estimate. Eventually I heard back. It was a pleasant drive.

I decided that instead of trying to figure out what we already had at home that would tempt my appetite, I should get takeout on the way back. I contemplated that. As it happens, there is a Jollibee by the mall! Chicken sounded good. But I have Opinions about fried chicken with bones in (no); did they have chicken tenders? This sounded like a good topic of research. I parked and scared up a menu. Yes. Great!

I hit the button.

Not the fuck again. I pushed down the half-up lock lever and tried pulling it up. No. Oh dear. This was not good. I tried manually fiddling with it a few more times, then called Belovedest, to give them a heads-up that they might be required to help rescue me.

By the time I got through to their voicemail and had laid out the situation, trying to not be too hysterical, I tried the lock yet again. This time it worked. I told their voicemail as much and hung up.

The line had been waxing and waning as I observed from the parking lot; this time it was in the long phase. So I waited in line behind someone in a kilt as the people in front of us figured out what they wanted, got handed their coaster-shaped pagers, and eventually fought with the door to get out with their bags of delicious dinners and treats. Alas, they had no chicken tenders, I learned when I reached the counter.

I was getting back in the car when my watch started buzzing. Belovedest. Who had just come home and encountered my stressed message. I briefed them on the subsequent developments (out of car okay, we'll see what happens when I get home) and went for my backup dinner plan. I'd been craving a burger earlier, so burger it became.

The door didn't argue with me when I got home, fortunately. I came in, curled up on the couch, and decided I wasn't going very many places after that. I began to get the intermittent stabbing pain from my right hip that says that I have overdone something. I took the next dose up on my pain control regimen, and the pain eventually receded after a few more choice stabs.

ding ding ding


pretty much everything went ok; ice packs were iffy but I got real ice and napped

got takeout on the way home but not Taco Bell despite the conceptual pun

going to fall over now

Alas, Costco seems to be out of the very good jarred butter chicken sauce.

Yellface has been allowing Alex to touch her face, and right now she seems to be soliciting cheek rubs.

My week got long:

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