At the end of the walk Paul says we really should be going I am late for getting the car back to Katie to pick up Alex and I just hate stared him and leaped out of the car at Deer Lake Parkway so he could go straight home and I took the bus because if there’s one thing I KNOW about being a mom it’s the blank terror of knowing you’re going to be late to pick up your child and you’re going to get charged and they’ll hate you, which may get transferred to your kid.
So, Jeff that’s why I didn’t pick up any treats.
I have an appointment to have my test results interpreted for me at 2 on Monday. If I was dying they would have called me in faster, so I have to assume that I’m just ‘porely.’ I got about four days of relief from the gut pain but it came back in spades the day before yesterday. She’s going to bitch at me about not quitting wheat like she told me to but I’m going to fix her with my bloodshot stare (lots of staring, so much staring) and say “Did you know that a lot of selfcare is the art of the fucking possible and given that I have not consumed so much as a drop of alcohol since you told me not to with the exception of two drops of vanilla flavouring, let’s work on what I can manage thanks.”
Oldfud edition: don’t bother reading the rest of this
It was national coming out day yesterday. I find it entertaining that with each passing year I find myself less interested in identifying as bisexual and more as being non-binary. There’s no place in lesbian culture for me (which is fine, safe spaces and all and I can’t complain about welcomes I’ve received earlier) and I’m anti TERF (like, they’ve attacked me online, can you believe it?) and the older I get the more I take a kind of pagan godlike ‘who gives a shit about the naughty bits’ attitude. So I’m poly and non-binary because that’s where I feel I’ve settled. Next year, who the hell knows, (this sentence deleted because it was too disgusting to be funny).
