I did laundry – even managed not to leave a load in the washer overnight so it didn’t go skunky – unloaded and loaded the dishwasher – went for a walk in Fraser Foreshore with Paul – no animals but a lovely seat by the river in the sun with no wind, and hordes of lovely doggies – and then a side quest to the bank and to pick up some chocolate croissants at the Cobbs in Market Crossing (there was a request for same). I also called pOp and got the scoop on what a drag it is, being old. Call your people while you can. One of my cousins told her pOp she thinks that with the pandemic maybe she’ll never see him again. I have thought this often, but one writes letters and makes phone calls as families did in more scattered and less communicative times. Wrote, maybe (and only) 200 words.
I appear to be completely recovered from my unpleasant abdomen. I had a short talk with mOm about my provisional diagnosis and self-treatment and she was supportive and helpful. My BP continues to steadily improve, now that the doc has added a diuretic. I’ve noticed no difference in whiz volume though, a blessing I guess.
One of my favourites on twitter this morning suggested that the worst combo of director and musical would be Seth McFarlane and ‘Little Shop of Horrors’ and I nearly barfed through my eyes, my reaction was so poor.
Someone recommended a 550K LoTR fanfic on AO3 and I got one chapter in and bailed. I’ve seen slow-moving stories before but this one was eerily reminiscent of a molasses drop on Europa. It wasn’t badly written in the usual fanfic ways, but s l o w
Katie emailed me for moral support cleaning tomorrow which I said sure no problem. No bending? no problem.
Today, put away the last of the laundry, drink tea, support disabled activists, learn from activists of colour, plan out an embroidery project.