Cleaning specialist day

Today, my room. This is big and emotional and horrific as an ADD sufferer but you know what, Suzanne doesn’t judge. I also have a Christmas Prezzy for her. And the toilet is out of the downstairs bathroom so she doesn’t have to do that room today.

Jeff says if it improves my mental health he’s all in favour of paying Suzanne to help me with it, once again confirming that he is a Very Good Person.

I’m not a hundred percent sure if the grisly business amidships is Metformin induced or I have a gut bug, but I am not leaving the house today.

Quick break while I empty dishwasher and swap laundry over…

Brekky was an almost salt free affair: steamed asparagus smothered in scrambled eggs, with a side of golden kiwi fruit and a reduced-salt fresh baked home made whole wheat bun. The asparagus was kinda off-flavoured but still edible and I *nailed* the scrambled eggs, perfect really.

850 words on the BC flooding fanfic – it’s really coming together nicely, and I walked back a scene that wasn’t working, so go me. THEY’RE ALONE IN A CAMPER VAN and the trope continues AND THERE WAS ONLY ONE BED. Didn’t think this through, did ya fellas.

I put in all the family names as prompts for the AI art thing and look what it made…. I mean it should be an UPSUN cover or something it’s so magnifisumpin.


Yes, they couldn’t refloat it. Don’t worry, climate change will fix it so it refloats soon enough, they’ll try again at the next ‘over 5 metres’ tide.

I think I’m going to make asparagus scrambled eggs this morning. Whether I have the urge to make whole wheat buns to go with brekky remains to be seen.

Absolutely lovely letter from Tish. We’re outlining our atrocious, funny and ordinary health problems to each other; how boring our letters will seem to other people if they’re ever amassed. At least we’re not discussing the state of our spouse’s bowels like a several generations back Uncle Jack used to do. God, how my mother did NOT enjoy transcribing his self-important screeds. And now I get to send Tish baby pictures.

Ryker farts like a grown man. I mean seriously pOp I have a mental image of your eyebrows climbing like a homesick angel if you ever heard him. He is a good feeder, if a little sleepy, and thanks to Katie’s research and buying an extremely expensive bottle for him, he doesn’t have nipple confusion even though he’s having overnights at his dad’s place already. (A three week old breastfed baby excuse me while my mind goes poooooof kabang.)

Paul came for lunch and to help me run errands (CBD gummies, misdirected mail to a neighbour, pickup my new prescription, more KN95 masks, buy 30 bucks of veg) and do a mall walk yesterday and the two of us had a lovely old screechy confab about the hell we went through (during our own childrearing with nipple confusion) when daycare started, and now the science has caught up, apparently.

Also, Katie’s supply is a testament to her Friesian ancestors (what do you mean her ancestors weren’t Friesian cows) ; I am encouraging her to donate since ample doesn’t even cover it. She’s considering it. I just love her so much right now & it was amazingly awesome to see her the other day.

BP markedly better. It’s still not great, but I’m in no danger of dropping dead.




There’s Granny Rivett, possibly the sweetest person I will ever have known personally. I loved her so much and she was so unfailingly kind and practical; I could only wish to be more like her.

She’s been gone a while, but she isn’t gone when I use her silverware, serve Alex cocoa in one of her teacups, unjam my breadmaker with her gravy spoon…. she’s right there….