Iunno, man, maybe like six chickens worth?

The thing that finally made me throw up my hands about it was then they started making up bird facts in service to the narrative.

“Oooh, if she doesn’t get back to her flock they will leave forever and she will never see her one true mate again and be alone for-ever!” Bullshit, that’s obviously an ordinary, completely non-migratory carrier pigeon, and even so-called “monogamous” birds have no trouble replacing a dead mate when breeding season rolls around.

Don’t even start with that manufactured false-sense-of-urgency bullshit glued together with fake animal behavior facts, this is even worse than earlier when y’all were waving around a basket of Red Delicious apples and calling them Honeycrisps.

 

It is 3:07 PM, and I am still trying to wake up enough to take my meds.

Soon it will be too late for me to take my afternoon wake-up pills.

Augh.

 

In other news, I have gotten the official report back from the psychiatrist’s office: I have approximately one (1) autism.

 

The other night, I had a dream involving interdimensional travel caused by tree sneezes.

Also, apparently there are riots happening in the city where I live.

The initial killing took place outside the Cup Foods where my sister walks to get last-minute groceries.

I am not someone who gets out and talks to people much even when we aren’t under quarantine, so I have heard more about it from the internet than in person.

What I know about the police force in Minneapolis:

1) They’re mostly made up of people who live in small towns outside Minneapolis, because we can’t risk having City Folk police their own.

2) They’re mostly white.

3) They’re mostly assholes, especially if you’re not white. (My sister, who is white, but also a social worker who has had to advocate to cops for both black and white clients, has confirmed the difference, and that the safety of black clients will be at risk if cops get involved.)

... I don’t know what else to say. Fuck white supremacists, fuck the police, fuck white supremacists in the police.

 

We’re probably putting Chauncey down tomorrow.

I say “probably” because I’m still in the bargaining stage, but Mandi’s made the appointment with the home vet and they’ll be here tomorrow afternoon.

I really don’t want to do this. He’s been in decline a long time and my bedclothes are in continuous circulation in the laundry because he’s incontinent, but I don’t think he wants to die and this feels like a betrayal.

I’m on the bed with him now. I’ve gotten laundry done specially today so he can sleep under the covers with me tonight like he likes to.

I don’t like this.

 

He’s gone. The home vet was very nice. He stayed in my lap for the whole procedure.

I was pretty much useless for the rest of the day, and now I can’t sleep.

 

Fuck sleep anyway. ‘S overrated.

 

It’s late and I’m tired, but I’m too bored to lay quietly with the lights off.

A thing: I have always wanted kids. I’ve always hoped that someday, I’d get enough of my shit together that that didn’t look like basically the worst idea ever. That’s not looking real likely at the moment, though.

In 2021, I turn 40.

(I’ve taken to humming “Another One Bites the Dust” to myself every time my period starts.)

 

In cat news, Polly’s recent insistence on occupying boobshelves as opposed to lap-thrones has earned her the new title of “catstache.”

 

Today I went looking for Johnny Cash’s cover of Hurt, for reasons I can’t quite remember. Possibly because I felt like bawling my eyes out but couldn’t come up with a good enough excuse.

Goddamn but that cover is amazing.

 

Augh. I can’t find the button on the internet that makes the hurting go away.

Gonna go skim fic recs again. I require a fresh infusion of longfic, stat.

 

Parking a thought here pending possible future deployment:

There is no moral imperative to be Right About Reality.

 

Goddamn it. My brain just. Isn’t working. Wants to go back to sleep and it’s 5 in the afternoon and I’ve been asleep all day.

Auuugh.

 

I decided yesterday that I would clean up dog crap in the back yard. Today, I cleaned up dog crap in the back yard.

I told myself before I started that completing the job would help alleviate the sense that I am worthless and a failure. However, I am done cleaning dog crap and I still feel like a worthless failure. Also, I am out of stuff to read again.

How fix?

 

Last night/this morning I dreamed I was walking around inspecting a horse show for non-standard arena measurements and a lammergyre griffin landed on my head and just chilled there for the rest of the tour.

Right now I am worried and pissed off because Minneapolis just instated another curfew and all that means is the cops get to do anything they want to anyone they want after 10 PM, even more so than they did anyway.

Fuck the cops. Fuck Trump.

 

My sleeping brain has defeated both Ao3 and Rule 34 of the Internet.

Ladies, gentlemen, & other, I now present to you the pairing generated by the REM-addled neural network that resides in my personal cranium:

Cookie Monster/OMC.

Which turns up 0 results in searches on Ao3 and Google.

(This was not meant as either a challenge or a request, by the way. The dream was content enough for my entire lifespan, and would have been even if the OMC hadn’t been a self-insert. plz no more.)

 

Uuugh cities. Outside always so full of people. People who see you and react and you have to decide how to treat appropriately and if you do it wrong they judge you. No respite from judging, not even when you stay inside, because staying inside means failing at lawn maintenance. And it starts even before you go outside, because you have to dress appropriately and fulfill basic hygiene standards and you are basically out of pants that don’t have huge holes in untenable places and you really should buy some more pants but that requires going outside and see above for the problems with that.

Anyway I made stew today, and stayed inside.

 

I voted!


Also, pumpkins.



They got pre-gnawed by the squirrels. I had decided to go with a zombie/rodent theme, except the bottom one had already got too mushy for detail, so I just hacked in a few holes and left him borfing some pumpkin guts so the squirrels could trick-or-treat too.

 

Can I just maybe sleep through election day, with an option to sleep through the next four years/eternity if a certain evil cheeto is allowed to stay in office?

 

Welp. Doc/insurance didn’t like my old sleep study, which means I can’t get most of my meds, so I have to get another sleep study, meaning I have to go off all but one of the remaining meds or the sleep study won’t be valid.

I’m currently awake for what feels like about four or five hours a day. I have to stay off everything for about a month.

I don’t like this. I’m tired and depressed and it sucks.

I’m going back to sleep now.