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Dear Diary

A 3741-post collection

Blood tests, lurgis and other nonsense

Mayhem needs his veins plumbed to ascertain whether or not his liver is up to snuff. This has to happen sometime within two weeks. I am, of course, waiting until his lurgi is done with before getting that done with.

So this morning involves lying in wait for Mayhem to achieve consciousness so I can ask him if he's over The Bug yet. And if not, then I'm going nowhere and doing nothing.

And I really should focus on getting my story done so I can just do all my nothing properly.

Except someone said something about The Adventure Zone during the live version of Critical Role, and I wanna see it but I gotta wait and the kitten that runs my head WANTS THAT SHINY THING NAO!

It's fun living in this brain, sometimes.

I love Fridays

I don't have to go anywhere. Except, I need to go and get almond milk at some point in my immediate future. And sometime tonight, we might go out for a little bit of a feast.

But other than that, I can take my firkin time, today.

I can chill.

Last night, I went to see the latest Predator movie and... the saddest evaluation for it is that they took a step forward in having capable women in there who know how

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Dumb Little Mistakes

Of all the bad things that could happen to a technophilic writer, the worst has to be a hand injury.

Especially one as daft as this one.

In the process of scooping up carrot stubs, I ran the side of my index finger along the edge of a knife that was just sitting there. It didn't hurt, so I didn't think I had hurt myself, and it wasn't bleeding even after I'd chucked the carrot stubs.

Squeeze finger just to check. Yup.

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Fargnax!

I have a lot of stress. Most of it is self-inflicted. And worse, I can't do shit about it.

  • The expert recommended more tests.
  • Mayhem doesn't want to do them.
  • I finally triple-checked Sweet Child of Mine and started posting it on AO3. It is a rough beast of a whump fic. Be warned.
  • I'm still watching Adapting in slush pile limbo. So far, it's in a state of not being looked at.

I should go with the most likely scenario, but.

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I Need a Cure

My anxiety is in rare form this morning. We're seeing an expert about Mayhem's digestive issues, today.

There's a high likelihood that said expert will recommend irreversible invasive surgery and I am prepared to fight like a tiger about this.

And I am terrified - absolutely bone-deep terrified - that I will somehow fail and legal shit will get involved on all of this.

I have to think of this in a Best Case, Worst Case, Most Likely Case scenario.

Best Case:

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Once More Into the Breach...

Mayhem is, once again, feeling poorly. Though he has apparently been suffering for three days, he decided not to mention anything until this morning. Showing a timing worthy of the typical Monday-itus.

He did throw up, though, which is my usual bar to pass for staying at home. Same with a fever.

Good luck for me - he's seeing an expert in digestive issues tomorrow, so we should get some form of resolution this time. Huzzah. And if we don't get a

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Taking a Day

I'm having a selfish day, today. I am looking after myself. I have no set schedule and I'm getting to things as I please.

About the only thing that needs to get done is my Instant. Which will be happening, but I plan on taking my time and having fun with it.

Other than that, I am doing all the nothing my heart desires.

I will:

  • Finally listen to the latest episode of The Adventure Zone
  • Have a truly indulgent bubble bath
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Teething Troubles

Yesterday, just after I dropped my Instant, our new connection to NBN dropped. Like unto a stone.

Just. In the middle of finally enjoying myself with time to spare, the internet just shut off. Attempts to contact my Beloved about this were ignored - the phones still work, but 'work' is a negligible term when any messages are unanswered.

It looks like our service provider isn't to blame, but rather the new modem we got is faulty and service can be restored

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Good news, Bad news, Meh news

Good news: We're finally connected to the NBN so I can upload my random crap with a clear conscience... maybe.

Bad news: I had to be offline for a majority of yesterday because these transfers can NEVER be smooth.

Good news: It's all working now.

Bad news: I now have zero excuses to not send Adapting off to Baen Books.

Good news: I finished Sweet Child of Mine, which is a mega whump fic that needs a good beta.

Bad news: Because

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Kitten plus Disco Ball == me

So many Gottas. So many Dunwannas.

I gotta:

  • do this blog
  • instant story
  • 500 words
  • house cleaning
  • send off a copy of Adapting to Baen Books

I Dunwanna do any of those. I'd much rather wind up that one fic that's been possessing my soul for months now. And then start posting it so I can revel in the suffering of others.

I'd much rather nap all day because wet and miserable weather. And have hot soup and fanfic in-between bingeing my

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Sneezin', Sneezin', Sneezin'...

Well, it's better than the wheezing, I guess. Probably a lot better. But it sure as shit doesn't feel that way when you're going through an entire box of tissues inside of 48 hours. Which is probably close to what I'm doing.

I barely remembered to do the Patreon stuff, yesterday. I have to cook up something for Wordpress Wednesday before bedtime. That's going to be fun.

I have some ideas from last week I could consider. I could do a piece

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It's the Most Horrible Time...

At least for my asthmatic arse. Sneezin' and Wheezin' Season has commenced. I can tell by the way my throat feels closed up and I suddenly have a need for my preventers, puffers, and occasional nebuliser doses of my meds.

I have my faithful Max within arm's reach. And I always have a modicum of medication squirrelled away within the cargo space. I've had the better part of my entire life coping with not being able to breathe so this is more

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Urgle...

I am operating on less than six hours of sleep. Want to know how I know? I play Sunken Secrets on my phone. I sent some balloons away on a six-hour wait-fest before I went to sleep and woke up before they returned.

Needless to say, I am not the happiest of campers, this morrow.

I did a little something productive, ran out of idea, and attempted to return to sleep with mixed results. I got maybe a two-hour nap or less

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Sdrawckab!

Once again, I got my approach to organisation catty-corner, and did NOT focus on telling y'all about my alleged life before getting rolling on today's Instant.

Which, by the way, tips more than a hat-rack at The Adventure Zone. Spoilers if you haven't listened through.

Listen through, btw. It's full of dick jokes and cussing, but it's funny as hell and you WILL cry. It's one hell of a ride.

Ahem.

Today's plans involve pickling more strawberries and teaching my Beloved to

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Now I'm Pissed Off

Picture the scene: It's the day before yesterday. I put my heart and soul into, and wring myself out for, a piece that by all accounts should have knocked it out of the park.

One comment.

One reblog.

Some handful of likes.

Yesterday, I pretty much put my thumb up my butt and churn out a fill-in-the-blanks WWII Escape The POW Camp plotting.

One redistribution via Free Fiction Daily.

One clap on Medium.

One reblog.

I can argue that my least-effort vaguely-historically-accurate

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