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Back from Noank, which was nice, and Falmouth, which was quite nice. I helped Dad with the maintenance on the generator battery (meaning he told me how to do it, and I did it), and helped Grammie with crossword puzzles (she's 95 and doesn't care much about pop culture) and rooting for the Red Sox and fetching things for her if she didn't feel like getting up again right after she had sat down.

I spent large chunks of yesterday at the beach, and had the unheard-of privilege of having the entire beach to myself all morning. And it was low tide, besides, so I went swimming even though I know better than that. Generally, thou shalt not go swimming unless there's somebody else on the beach. The water only came up to my hips, though, and there aren't any worrisome currents. I went swimming properly in the afternoon when the tide was high and I had company. And I stepped on a rock underwater and cut up the sole of my right foot some, but that's the sort of thing that happens. At least I didn't turn myself into an entirely crispy critter in two hours, like last time.

And I am still on vacation, and there are only three things on my List of Things to be Up To between now and the end of the 27th. (And two medical appointments, but I can get Up To things after those because they're both in the morning on two different days.) Today is a day for making friends with the Hairy Beasts again, since I've been gone for four days and they're not quite sure I am who I say I am, yet.
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My to-do list is down to one big thing, one medium thing I can't do until I get a reply about it, one optional thing (would be nice but isn't necessary), and one thing I can't do anything about until after I get back from vacation anyway.

Yesterday I spent two hours getting my new night guard adjusted. It doesn't fit yet. I got to be the guinea pig for a new lab, and the lab apparently did what it was told, not what Dr. Y wanted. So it was two hours of put the thing in, bite on articulating paper, take it out and smack my thumb knuckle into my lower lip because I basically have to crack the thing off my teeth, Dr. Y grinds off some acrylic, put it back in again, bite on articulating paper, take it out and smack my thumb knuckle into my lower lip, etc.

I just had to reassure K that no, Snip will not be horribly offended if you don't give her a treat when you give Lily her crushed-up pill and pill pocket. In fact, Snip will think you're trying to poison her if you offer her a treat. I might go get some provolone, though.

My first manager-like act: I asked my assistant to stop starting emails with "Hey!". We're less formal over here than HMS is, but there's a line, and that's over it.
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Sometime next week or the week after next, the IT department will take this computer away, nuke the hard drive, and start over. I need them to do that because Outlook has been broken for at least a couple of years now and the Exchange server decided two weeks ago that Mac Mail is persona non grata, so I've been stuck with web mail, and web mail sucks diseased donkeys if you're trying to search for something in your inbox. Because nuking the hard drive will nuke everything that isn't on the network, 95% of my desktop is now on the network and my desktop is looking positively naked.

Sorted out the reimbursement for sending stuff to New Zealand. It got rejected the first time, I suspect because the finance office couldn't believe the amount. I had submitted a photo of the actual receipt, so yes, it did cost $768, and I want it back.

I'm making a list of things to be Up To while I'm off work and not going to medical appointments. What I will not be Up To includes anything more to do with anybody's H1B paperwork, which I just KNEW was going to land on me despite my having nothing to do with interviewing or hiring this person. My assistant isn't quite detail-oriented enough to be trusted with it (which has made my life more interesting than it maybe should have been for the last couple of months, besides).

This coming year I have got to take some "how to be a manager" training. I still haven't got a clue how to do that, beyond "tell somebody what you want them to do and help them do it rather than doing it yourself". I managed not to have a performance review on time this year because I was too busy performing, but I can't get away with not having one, so it will have to happen eventually.
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As of yesterday, the CODA documents are in the hands of FedEx. I have a temporary $768 hole in my credit card, because we couldn't figure out how to fill out the customs paperwork for New Zealand online, so I took those two boxes to the actual FedEx office in Coolidge Corner. I was going to fret about them all weekend otherwise. Then I decided I didn't want to take the dolly upon which I had transported the boxes to my massage appointment, so I tromped back to work with it, and then took the bus back out again. And I was only four minutes late for my massage, having called them and told them I was going to be ten minutes late.

I really needed the massage. I knew I had one muscle in spasm in my neck, but there were three others I didn't know about. It honestly felt like I had rebar in there. This morning it hurts like blazes (it was a three-Advil morning), but in a good way, and I can actually look over my left shoulder. I hadn't been able to do that for about two weeks.

On to the next thing, which is logistics for vacationlike stuff. Not At Work now includes at least two medical appointments after the 17th, which means I can't be out of state, which means the Bay of Fundy is off. Maybe I'll make a four-day weekend out of the weekend after Labor Day instead. But I can still go whale watching after an 8:15 AM (oogh) appointment.
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It took two hours of overtime last Thursday and five hours of overtime last Friday, but I got the 2197 pages of DMD accreditation documents sent to the printer yesterday morning. I might as well apply for a PhD somewhere, since we've pretty much written a thesis. (Problem being, I don't want a PhD in higher education, which is the only thing other than translation that I'd be qualified for a PhD in.)

And here it is, several hours later, and I've been through Books 1, 2, 4a and 4b making a whole lot of niggling little corrections (sent to me as cell phone pictures in my email; I got a picture of what page the error was on and a subject line of what to fix), one of which was a redundancy problem that meant I had to update the appendix numbers in the section and the table of contents; three of which were line spacing problems that meant I had to replace the entire section; and two of which were infuriating "page number melded with the actual document content and had to be extracted" problems and sent them off to the printer again as final versions. I want nothing to do with these documents for the rest of the week, except for the last bits of window dressing I have to do for the PDF versions (linking the table of contents so you can click in it and go where you want; bookmarks are so 2010, but I put them in anyway).

I've decided to be Not At Work for two weeks starting Aug 14. I know I'm going to the Cape with Mom for some of that time, but I'm trying to decide if I want to go to the Bay of Fundy and watch the tide come in for some of the rest of that time. I've always wanted to see the tide there, and I don't need either a car or an airplane to do it, but it's another Thing To Be In Charge Of and I don't wanna be in charge of anything complicated. Too bad responsible adulthood comes with a certain level of complicated.

Now that it's not All CODA All The Time, I need to make the eye doctor appointment I didn't make in June, and the regular doctor appointment I need so I can keep not having cramps, and probably a mammogram appointment because I haven't had one yet. Whee.

Is anything awesome lately? Well, the lunch I was treated to at the Gardner Museum cafe yesterday was awesome. The ant invasion seems to be over. My DVD collection now has a shelf in which it all fits, so I can find what I want when I want it. I have a 90-minute massage appointment for Friday, and I remembered to reschedule that when they called and said my massage therapist would be on vacation in July. Lily is the poster child for well-controlled feline hyperthyroidism. I finally washed the kitchen floor last week.
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Several years ago there was a guy who drove the M2 shuttle and, at the ends of the line, would say something like "Harvard, last stop, don't forget all your stuff, and be good to yourselves." I try to remember that advice, but I suck at it lately. So, at least today, I will actually listen to what I want, and try to make it happen. So far it's been a little light housecleaning before breakfast, taking the T to breakfast instead of walking, and giving myself permission not to set any speed records for getting errands done. Subject to change if I buy ice cream, though, because the sooner that gets home, the better. But I haven't decided to do that yet.
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Not better. I just cried for half an hour because I needed a hug and Lily came and lay down in my armpit. I've needed to uncork myself for a while, and I knew that, but of all the things to lose it over...well, at least now maybe I can go to work tomorrow and finish the horrible PDF editing I spent four hours on today.
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Better. Rugs is vacuumed, ant invasion is over (I hope; I haven't seen any ants since Wednesday), computer is backed up, router seems to be behaving, laundry is sorted. Floors need swiffering and mopping and laundry needs doing, in that order so I don't have to mop around the drying rack, but at least I don't feel quite so much like I live in a pit tangled up with a mass of cat hair and rug fuzz and broken technology.

There's nothing wrong with my computer. The Computer Loft ran a bunch of tests on it and said it was possibly the router, and to try resetting that before I call RCN and spend half my life on hold so they can tell me to unplug it and plug it back in again. So I came home and unplugged the router and plugged it back in again, and tried it, and it wasn't having any. But this morning, when I was resigned to calling RCN, it all behaved perfectly well. I do not understand technology. (And I actually like RCN, especially compared to the other option, which is Comcast.)

I broke down and ordered a DVD bookcase because I am so tired of having more DVDs than I have shelf space. The extra ones do not belong on top of the cable box; it annoys me to see them there, and I have enough other things to be annoyed about and enough money to throw at the problem, so that's what I did. I've found myself not thinking so much about money lately, which is new and different. I used to think about it in the context of not having much at all, and then I gradually started thinking about it in the context of having enough to be able to do things that made me happy but weren't absolutely necessary, and now I'm sort of taking having a certain amount of it for granted. Which is probably a bad idea. I was prepared to throw several hundred dollars at computer repairs, having already thrown several hundred dollars at Lily's blood test earlier this month. That would have been impossible when I was young, and inconvenient five years ago, but now I'm OK with it and I'm not sure I should be.

I am, however, allowed to go spend my birthday gift card for Brookline Booksmith, so I think I'll do that today. Books make me happy, even if they do take up space. I have two largish boxes of books that need new homes. I still want to start the ODE Non-Dental Book Swap Shelf, but I never get around to it. Maybe I'll sneak in some weekend and start it.
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Computer is going to repair shop tonight, because I brought it to work today to see if it responded better in air conditioning, and it doesn't. It's probably either a two-minute fix or something that requires taking the entire laptop apart.

Accreditation documents are going to printer on Monday for sample copy, which means they are going for final copies either late next week or the Monday after next.

Both cats are shedding like mad, which I can't really blame them for because this is not good weather to be covered in fur and hate water. But I wish the rugs didn't look like disaster areas. They wouldn't be so bad if I had gotten off my overly large backside last weekend.

Standard 2 is finally about as done as it's going to get. It's a shadow of its former self at 250 pages, because I reduced all the tables to 10-point font and doing that shortened the damn thing by 20 pages.

Now that I have spare brain cells again, I'm thinking about scuba certification again. It may have to happen next summer after chorus is over, though, because I need 14 hours of pool time and however many hours of classes and I can't squash all that into August. Maybe next summer I won't look like ten pounds of bulk sausage in a five-pound bag when I put on a wetsuit, too. There WILL be Things Done About That.
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Oof. I went through Standard 2 again today based on a meeting I had yesterday that required updating most of the tables. That was all good, but then I went on to another document that wanted all the parts of Standard 2 that applied to every individual course. The way I did that was to search Standard 2 for every instance of every course name.

In the process, I discovered that consistency would be good, but it wasn't happening: one course was going by three different titles (I looked at the results I was getting and said "That can't be all of them", and it wasn't, because when you search for Treatment of Child and Adolescent, you don't get Treatment of the Child and Adolescent or Treatment of Child & Adolescents). Besides that, four or five subsections of 2-23 either had courses listed in the table that weren't in the narrative (uh-oh) or courses listed in the narrative that weren't in the table (easy fix: insert row, copy and paste). So I fixed all that stuff, and now it all says Treatment of Child and Adolescent (which is what the syllabus says) and Oral and Maxillofacial Surgery Rotation (ampersands don't belong in formal writing that way), and everything in a table is also in the text, and everything in the text is also in a table. And my brain hurts and my shoulder is killing me.

Several hours later...

I got a head start on the sore shoulder last night, on account of it being chilly out and I being curled up pretty tight because I was also chilly. I probably should have put a quilt on the bed, but it's July. It being chilly out does mean there's a cat in my lap, though. That hasn't happened much lately, on account of it being humid enough for a tropical rain forest. My laptop doesn't like the humidity either. I don't know for sure if that's why the fan runs on high speed whenever the machine is awake, but it's been doing that since Tuesday. The internet said to restart the SMC, but that didn't work. I think I'll let the Computer Loft at it on Monday.

Going to bed at 8:30 would be a waste of a perfectly good Friday night, but I'm about half inclined to anyway.
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I would like something this week to be easy. So far the only easy thing is sitting around at home eating whatever's handy because it's handy.

Everybody at work is stressed out for CODA reasons. On top of that, the oral surgery director is in the hospital (thankfully with something that should be fixable), which means he isn't here this week to see patients. I found this out yesterday afternoon, when of course the person who would usually handle this sort of thing was out, and promptly asked who I should tell about it and then did so. But apparently the clinic management didn't find out until today and now they're yelling at me for not telling them because they found out from somebody else this morning. Apparently lack of actual procedure for telling people things like this, and ignorance of what procedure there is, isn't an excuse.

I know I've got the authoritative version of Standard 2. People keep asking me about all the other ones, and they won't take "I don't know, I only have the version I was sent last week, and the person who sent it isn't the one working on it" as an answer. I'm afraid this is going to turn into a massive concordance project among several versions on Friday, because SOMEBODY has to know whether the Student Handbook should be labeled A1-1a or A1-1b, and I'm afraid it's going to have to be me. I've already done massive concordance projects on Standard 2 and the Summative Assessment Guidebook (300 and 150 pages, respectively) and my brain hurts. The fact that the longest of the other five standards is a mere 40 pages does not make a three-version concordance easier.

I was looking at a restaurant menu online yesterday and it had "bone-in skate wing" as an entree. Skates don't have bones. I wonder if the menu writer has ever seen a skate, or at least seen the dish they wrote about?
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Not being at work since last Wednesday was a wonderful idea.

Thursday was Vet Day, and I actually managed to catch Lily relatively quickly and shut her in the bathroom ten minutes before the vet got there. I met him on the porch so he wouldn't ring the doorbell and scare everybody including me. The doorbell is extremely loud. Anyway, Lily decided to be stoic about the whole thing, and got her blood pressure taken and blood drawn and got tartar knocked off upper molars on both sides, and it only cost me $500.

Friday I got the results of Lily's blood tests, and she's the poster child for well-controlled feline hyperthyroidism, so we're all good until November when it's time for rabies shots for both Hairy Beasts. I eventually hauled myself out of my chair around lunchtime and wandered off to the aquarium, which was a better time than I was expecting. After I had had sufficient aquarium time, I wandered off to the Boston Public Market and replaced the Japanese knotweed honey I brought to Noank at one point and which never came home again. Since I hadn't hydrated myself adequately and it was HUMID, I was in pretty sorry shape by the end of that, so I hauled myself home and ingested a quart of seltzer.

Saturday was the usual errands, and I bought six and a half pounds of cherries because they went down to $2.99 from $4.99. Today's Tuesday and I have two pounds left.

Sunday I didn't do a whole hell of a lot, except laundry, and I decided to do something about my craving for Vietnamese summer rolls and couldn't get them because the place in the Super 88 food court was closed for a family wedding. I could have gone to Le's, but Le's likes to stuff their rolls with mostly lettuce and the Super 88 place likes to stuff theirs with mostly noodles. I prefer mostly noodles. I settled for saag paneer from the Indian place instead, and it was good, but it wasn't what I wanted.

Monday I went back to the Super 88 and got the summer rolls, and came home and did some more embroidering. It's going to take three weeks to get a thousand stitches done, which is absurd, but the weather hasn't been cooperating and I don't like sweating all over the project.

Tomorrow when I have to be a Responsible Adult again, I have to reschedule my July massage appointment, and sign myself up to bring something to the chorus executive committee potluck dinner and meeting on the 19th, and schedule an eye exam, and go back to work and concentrate on getting the self-study actually assembled and out the door to be printed.

Next Monday is the drop-dead date for final revisions to all the supporting documents for Standard 2. I expect not to be having very much fun that week, especially since I also have to go to the chorus committee dinner and meeting. I would very much like to be going to a Bastille Day party in Bow, NH the Saturday after the not-fun week, but I'd have to rent a car, and I'm not in any mental condition to be driving anywhere after a week like that.

Just because life is like that, the weekend after the Tuesday-Thursday accreditation site visit in October, my cousin who currently lives in Florida is getting married in Falmouth. I'm trying to decide how bad it looks if I don't go, because the site visit will be three 8:30 - 7:30 days and I'm not all that close to this cousin in the first place. But I probably should go, because even though we're not all that close, I got a Save the Date announcement so they're going to invite me anyway. And Falmouth isn't impossible to get to from here.

My birthday is next Monday. I have no idea what I'm going to do about that. What I want to do about that involves a largish ribeye steak, probably from Mooo, but that's not the sort of place you go in sneakers. I do not like my physical self very much these days, to the point where getting dressed up feels like putting lipstick on a pig, and I don't see the point. I know perfectly well what I have to do about that, but all my will power lately is going to mental self-care because accreditation prep sucks diseased donkeys, and I can't seem to get into the whole physical self-care thing again. This being my 42nd birthday, maybe the answer to life, the universe, and everything will appear after we send the self-study out. Who knows?
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Lily didn't need any teeth pulled. I guess she just needed a piece of tartar knocked off one of her upper right molars, because she's back to being happy about that side of her face again. She's also the poster child for methimazole. The internet says long-term medication will shorten her lifespan a bit, but she's 11 already, so I bet she'll get to 14. Besides, the internet isn't always right, and besides that, Lily can't read, so she doesn't know she's supposed to have a slightly shorter lifespan.

I spent the afternoon at the aquarium, because I wanted to do that anyway and it was a good excuse to haul myself out of my chair and go somewhere with air conditioning. I objected to the whole "get dressed properly" bit, but I did it anyway, and had a good time once I got there. If I ever went insane and wanted a salt-water aquarium, I think I would want a hogfish. The big ones look like Muppets to me. Of course, in order to have a fish that big, I would have to have an aquarium the size of my bathroom, so it will never happen.

What might happen, if I ever hear back from the seller (it's Craigslist, so possibly I won't), is I might end up spending my $500 bonus from last week on a $400 student trumpet. I've wanted a trumpet since I gave up the trombone, and I gave up the trombone because it's in bass clef and my head is in treble. (Six years of clarinet and however many years of singing higher than tenor will do that.) A trumpet is in treble, and doesn't take up as much space as a trombone does. And besides, if I can play the trumpet I could play bits of Fanfare for the Common Man, and the Great Gate of Kiev, and half of Vivaldi's Trumpet Concerto, and the trumpet fanfare that starts Apollo 13, and some other things that have always made me wish I were a brass player so I could do that. I looked at Rayburn Music's sale page, but I'm not willing to pay $1200 for a trumpet I don't know how to play yet anyway.

The weather map says there's a squall line bearing down on us. I wish it would get here and change the air for a little while at least.
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Oog. I seem to have picked the worst two days this week to be at home (Thursday and Friday; supposed to be HUMID again). But I was also told not to come to work on July 3, because my boss doesn't know why the school isn't closed in the first place. (Because it's a Monday and the second year students want all the clinic time they can get. And because it's summer and nobody thought of it.)

I can't quite recite the entirety of Standard 2 yet, but I've just been through it for at least the fourth time this month, and I'm sick of it. I have to go back through it a fifth time and sort out the syntax in about 35 Pathways to Competency sections, and a sixth time to make sure all the course numbers are both correct and included where they should be. And probably a couple more times as I run across other things that have to be consistent through 300 pages and most likely aren't.

As a break from Standard 2, I wrote the third draft of the Scope of General Dentistry statement, because the second draft (which I didn't write) was a single impenetrable sentence. I wrote the first draft too. (Just don't ask me why I, as Curriculum Coordinator, wrote the Scope of General Dentistry statement. It belongs to Clinical Affairs, but nobody in Clinical Affairs was going to admit they should be writing it, and my boss asked me to, that's why.)

Tomorrow is Lily's eleventh birthday, according to the vet records she came to me with. I hope she doesn't end up getting more dental surgery as a birthday present on Thursday, but I only hope so because it wouldn't be any fun for her. I can afford it, and if it needs doing so she can eat happily, it needs doing. Quality of life is important.

I wish I knew what to do about my own quality of life, because my life is accreditation so much that I dream about work more often than not these days. I'm almost afraid to try drinking alcohol at bedtime, because if it works, I don't want to need to drink before bed.
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Last week was not very much fun for anybody in my household. The week before last was not very much fun for me. However, the universe seems to have taken notice, because yesterday I wandered into the basement at Brookline Booksmith and came up with six first edition Pogo books I didn't own already (Uncle Pogo's So-so Stories, Deck Us All With Boston Charlie, A Pogo Panorama, Prehysterical Pogo, Pogo Reruns, and We Have Met the Enemy and He is Us. I left Pogo's Will Be That Was and two copies of Pogo's Double Sundae there, because I've owned those for years now.) And then I wandered off to get my hairs cut, and met one of the faculty members there getting his hairs cut too. I wasn't quite in the right frame of mind to have my personal and professional worlds collide like that, so I sort of floundered.

I did get my $20 back on Friday. Also on Friday I had cause to be glad I wasn't drinking anything when the faculty member from Barcelona was in our side of the office talking about class pets, because when he said "hamster", he sounded EXACTLY like Manuel from Fawlty Towers. That would have been an interesting choking fit to have to explain.

Anyway, I survived work on Friday (just barely; I am now responsible for making sure Standard 2 lists all the correct appendices, exhibits and tables, and that we know we need all of them) and tottered off to a massage appointment. OW. Both hips, my right ribcage and my left shoulder were all so tight that they itched when they let go, and that was the first time I've ever been asked if we could skip working on my legs because my back wouldn't have been sorted out in time. The itchy places finally got around to being sore yesterday evening, after I went grocery shopping and cat-supply shopping (Wellness Core cat food is on my List for the Minister of Convenience now; they changed the design of their bags so I had to hunt for the right kind of food, and they put less food in the new bags, but they haven't changed the price).

Earlier this month I woke up with a craving for Sally Lunn bread, but I couldn't find the recipe I know I had somewhere. So I had to ask Mom to send it to me, and then I had to go buy butter and milk and eggs (the only one of those I keep around is eggs, and I generally hard-boil them), and then it got HUMID, which isn't great bread-rising weather, and the upshot is I haven't actually made the bread yet. I should do it today so I can bring it to work tomorrow and not have it sitting around here.

If I'm really being smart, I should make coffee today so I can refrigerate it overnight and have iced coffee for breakfast tomorrow.
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I am a shameless enabler. I just loaned a coworker $20 to buy cigarettes, because he ran out two days ago and I have to keep working with him for two more days this week, and I don't want to deal with him being grumpy on account of nicotine withdrawal. At least he knows he's getting grumpy on account of nicotine withdrawal and thought it was hilarious when I said that's why I'm giving him money. He swears up and down he'll pay me back on Friday, but I'll believe that when I see it.

I am also a paranoid pet parent. I've seen Snip was eating and drinking, but I was worried about lack of evidence in the litterbox. It turns out she's started actually burying it (after a mere eight years). And Lily is having teeth problems again, I think. I'll have Dr. G look at them when he comes next week.

Besides those, I threw myself on a grenade on Monday and it has just exploded, so I spent the morning comparing two versions of the Summative Assessment Guidebook (a mere 185 pages) and making sure that all the changes from one version joined all the changes in the other version. So now we have one version that makes sense, and I have to wait for three other people to make changes in their personal versions and then do the whole process again.

I wish it were embroidery weather, but it's just humid enough to make my hands start sweating after I've been holding the frame for five minutes. Doing this pattern in five-minute chunks isn't very satisfying, and I need to create something satisfying because I'm creating frustrating things at work.
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Yesterday I came home and discovered that Snip had yarfed up breakfast and didn't want dinner at all. This is the cat who wanted dinner after swallowing an embroidery needle. Besides which, she wasn't really acting like herself either (lethargic, and staring off into space instead of going to sleep). I decided that if she didn't want breakfast, we were going to Angell in the morning.

This morning she woke me up demanding breakfast and company while she ate it, and has kept it down and is acting much more like herself. Thank goodness. But what did I want cats for, again?

This morning I also woke up with a thundering headache. I'd had it since at least 4:00, when I woke up for no apparent reason and then went back to sleep at 5:30. I don't know if it's post-stress (Standard 2 got released into the wild yesterday at lunchtime), or weather (it rained) or something else (my neck is sore, so it might be the end result of a muscle spasm). Fortunately, three Advil and a pint of oolong tea got rid of most of it.

It seems to be trying to get brighter out and the sidewalks are drying off, which I approve of, and I am going to the gospel concert tonight if I have to take the Advil bottle with me. And, on the bright side of things, I didn't look at which pair of jeans I put on this morning and was pleasantly surprised that it was the smaller pair. That means it's not time to stop eating cheese entirely. It is time to stop buying butter and pasta for a while, though, because I combine entirely too much of both when I have them around.
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The weather is lovely again, having been shoot-me-now hot Sunday through Tuesday. It was 85 in the living room at 9:30 on Tuesday night and I couldn't get any cooler air indoors for some reason, even though it was cooler outdoors.

Last night was excellent sleeping weather, and I went and ruined it by having a frustration dream. I've been having a lot of those lately, and they all involve shouting at somebody (usually somebody who I would really like to shout at, but I can't in real life; the two I remember are Trump and, last night, Dad). I've also bitten through my night guard sometime in the last couple of weeks. I do not shout at anybody when I'm awake, but maybe I should start. Or maybe I should go somewhere way out in the back of beyond and shout at trees or something.

For lack of shouting at things, I bought myself a ticket to the Boston Pops 25th anniversary gospel concert on Saturday. One of my coworkers sings with them, and I could use a dose of raise-the-roof music (especially if I'm not singing it myself, which is work). Besides, I haven't been to Symphony Hall in something like 15 years, so I'm probably overdue.

I'm taking the last two days of June off, and am considering going and finding out what the heck is in Providence other than at least one tattoo shop and the train station. I just have to get through tomorrow, all of next week, and three days of the week after next. I hope I can actually manage that.
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I treated my angry and jealous and sad from the other day with retail therapy, to wit: buying out-of-print books I grew up with. Everybody ought to own Harry the Fat Bear Spy by Gahan Wilson (yes, THAT Gahan Wilson) if for no other reason than the threatening letters:

1. "HELP! I am turning GREEN! Somebody stop it! Somebody BETTER stop it! Signed, The Turning Green Bear."

2. (I forget exactly how it goes, but it ends with "and if I am STILL GREEN tomorrow I will do something TERRIBLE! Signed, The Green Bear.")

3. "It is tomorrow and I am STILL GREEN, and I have done something TERRIBLE, JUST LIKE I SAID! Signed, The Terrible Green Bear."

I already own Harry and the Sea Serpent, which is the second and last of the books about Harry the Fat Bear Spy, and is notable for containing an excellent quote: "I'M the one who talks to strangers! And they usually wish I hadn't!"

Everybody also ought to own A Great Big Ugly Man Came Up and Tied His Horse to Me, by Wallace Tripp, if for no other reason than to look at the illustrations. The fact that two or three of my favorite silly poems came from that book doesn't hurt either. So now I have incoming silly out-of-print books, and that makes me happy.

I walked home last night because the weather was excellent and I had to go to the Walgreens in Brookline Village anyway. I don't remember walking home being as much exertion as it was yesterday, so obviously I had better start doing it again. Today was an excellent day until it got cloudy again, but I got out for lunch and the weather was exactly what I ordered. For once.
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One foot in front of the other. Standard 2 is back to 292 pages, Table 2 is down to 19 pages, and I had to go pelting out at 1:00 yesterday to try to send some documents to a consultant in Philadelphia for same-day delivery. The only way to do that would have been to get on a train at South Station with them and take them to Philadelphia myself. We decided that delivery at 8:00 this morning was close enough, so I sent them by FedEx. Since my boss had said "See you tomorrow" when I left, I didn't go back to work after the FedEx office; I went to Otto (mushroom and roasted cauliflower pizza, which hit the spot) and then I went home. The Hairy Beasts were highly suspicious, because the last time I came home in the middle of a weekday afternoon, the vet appeared six minutes later. No vet this time, though.

What I should have done yesterday afternoon is go to Target, because I have enough of a List to make it worthwhile. But doing that would have required me to go back to the vicinity of work again, and not being at work in the afternoon already felt odd enough without being in the neighborhood with no intention of going back to work. So I went home instead and freaked the cats out.

It wasn't a good day to be Snip, yesterday. First there was the whole "suspicion of vet" incident, and then after dinner there was something she didn't like about the weather. I didn't hear any thunder, but it rained hard and she came slinking into the living room and hid under my knees for a while. She snapped out of it when I lay down on the floor and she discovered my sweatshirt cords and proceeded to kill one of them. And sometime last night she dropped her puffball in the water dish, again, which makes the water undrinkable because there's a puffball in it and makes the puffball untouchable because it's wet. Silly beast.

I should figure out why I have such a problem with washing the floors. I got to the point in the cleaning fit list when that was all that was left, and came to a screeching halt. Partly it's the idea of getting everything out of the kitchen except the table and the butcher blocks, and partly it's the fact that I have to sweep and swiffer the floors before I wash them and that's more work than I wanted at the end of the list. But it makes sense to do the floors last, because everything else (dust, cat hair) that gets cleaned off any other surface falls out of the sky and lands on the floors.

Hm. The Viking ship I saw in the pouring cold rain last October will be in Mystic until this September and open for tours. I think I might try to go see it on a day that isn't pouring cold rain, and get some better pictures.
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