That 31-day thing in Dancing on a Blade (September 2019)

Today, the prompt is, “Am I happy.” And the answer is, I don’t know. I don’t think that’s a good prompt system for me, so I’m going to shelve it.

Today, I went to the doctor’s instead of Spanish class. Had to talk about my wild diabetes (it ain’t pretty) and I got a starting weight for Plan Lose 15 Lbs. She replaced my blood sugar monitor (haven’t had one for years) and fiddled with my meds. The plan now is for me to double up what I’m taking (a very tiny dose) and to add two other drugs, which is fine because I needed them.

I wrote a chunk of smutfic (they’re currently done arguing about position and actually fiddling about, which was fun) and two bits for English 300. I have two readings for English 329 and a reading for forensic mitigation. I also have an easy-peasy-lemon-squeezy reflection paper for forensic mitigation. (What’s forensic mitigation? It’s a process in which a person’s life experiences are examined and presented in a way so as to humanize them and achieve a goal, which is usually a lowered criminal sentence or an immigration court deciding in favor of a refugee. I intend to use it as part of a process to make people with disabilities advocates for their own needs. I will totally spend the rest of my life telling people that Bob can do the job if he has a ramp for access and a chair the right height. I will show them how much it means to Bob to have these things. It also, I might add, appalls me that I will have to do this A LOT.)

(You’d think we’d get it by now…) (And don’t even get me started on how it’s meant for CRIMINALS, and I think I’m gonna need it for VR…!)

Anyway. Readings are queued up in a pile for once the kids crash out (please may it be soon) and I’m about to go find a snack to go with them. Also going to be doing a ream of fucking Spanish worksheets. It’s not good that I don’t have the book. I will have to scramble like hell to get those in on time Friday…it’s a virtual book, so I can at least buy access as soon as the cash hits my account. And the countdown’s running on that happy crappy.

It’ll race out of my account as fast as it arrives, but ain’t that the way it goes.

Doctor thinks my hideous leg pain is shin splints. This is a possibility. I did some research and I looked at my own feet (who has time for podiatry, not Kaiser) and I think I have low arches/flat feet, and of course, I have been wearing the exact wrong shoes my whole life. Of course. And the right ones, it looks like, will be about $200. If it solves the pain, bring that shit on. I have to find a shop that carries wide Hoka One One shoes, Google says I should head to REI, but that’s by the mall and I am terrified of I-5. I guess that’s what I’m scaring myself with this weekend.

You’re not alive if you’re not terrified, I guess.

I need to wash my hair, read some shit on writing fiction, write some fiction, fold some laundry, and tumble into bed. So of course, I’m arguing with the Siamese about whose bed that is (and whose bag it is) and the kids are wide awake and screaming at one another.