wordinista: (I shall conquer this)
The good news: I GOT MY SPLINT OFF FRIDAY! And I started physical therapy. And I am ONE STEP CLOSER TO GETTING MY HAND BACK.

The bad news: The PT exercises I have to do hurt like a motherfucker. Seriously, by the time I did my final round of exercises (I have a page of them, and they are to be done 6-8 times a day), I just wanted to cry. Partially because it hurt, and partially because it just shouldn't be this hard to bend your finger, and it was frustrating as... a really, REALLY frustrating thing.

The muscles of my entire arm, all the way up to my shoulder, ache. A lot. Ow.

Speaking of which, I'd better get started on the first round of reps this morning. Everything tightened back up overnight. :(
wordinista: (Wine)

T minus 17 days and counting until surgery.

I feel like a pretty huge wimp complaining about this stuff, especially when folks on my f-list have had far, far worse health problems, and deal with far worse pain than this.  And I really think the thing that aggravates me worse than the pain and stiffness is the fact that I really, really hate having to ask for help with things.  I absolutely hate it.  Hate being dependent on other people.  So. Much.

And I hate not being able to hold a goddamn PEN!  The car needed an oil change, and I was sitting in the waiting room, reading and trying to take notes for my IGA paper, and my handwriting is by this point damned near illegible and I was so goddamn frustrated I just wanted to take my pen and stab someone with it.  Except I'd have to do it left-handed, and then I'm pretty sure my aim would be off.

Ice doesn't make it feel better, heat doesn't make it feel better, and Advil, Tylenol, and aspirin barely make a dent anymore.

Whining doesn't make it feel better either, but it's either that or tequila.

Kidding, I'm kidding.  Mostly. 
wordinista: (I need a vacation)

Oh, that's right.  Because I spent almost all of yesterday horizontal. But more on that in a second.

Grampa came home Saturday!  He sees his regular doctor in a week, and a neurologist in two weeks.  At this point they're pretty certain it was a TIA, because they're finding no signs of ... anything, and apparently TIAs leave nothing behind. So, yay!

Now, as for me.

I'm reasonably certain (because I had a touch of it before, years ago) that I somehow managed to contract a mild case of -- wait for it -- SALMONELLA POISONING.  I'm not entirely sure where it came from, but I suspect my cookie-making activities Saturday night had something to do with it.  (Never, ever, ever nicking cookie dough again OH MY GOD EVER.)  Suffice to say I spent most of yesterday on the couch, huddled under blankets, burning up with fever.  (I'm not even kidding.  Sweatpants, sweatshirt, thick socks, and TWO BLANKETS and I was still shivering.)  About three bites into breakfast I felt suddenly, ickily full, and was just feeling... gross.  One thing led to another, and then I was on the couch, burning up, sipping water and keeping it in my stomach where it belonged.

Unfortunately, my body does not like being made to stay horizontal for quite that long, and by about five this morning I was tossing and turning, trying to find a position that was remotely comfortable.  And then I started getting hungry.  I took this as a good sign and snuck out of bed for some cereal and a glass of water.  I still feel a little feverish, but mostly weak, which is unfortunate, since I am so tired of lying down. I think Cheerios with some sliced up banana was suitably bland.  We'll see.  I didn't finish all of it, but now I'm not so insanely hungry, and it'll probably help my headache.

I think I'm going to tidy up the kitchen a bit and see if I can go back to bed.

Also, oh god,the dogs so need to be walked today.
wordinista: (I need a vacation)
This will not be a long, drawn out post about how things are going, because I don't think you really want to know.  So!  BULLET POINTS:

  • Gave Sylvan my two-weeks notice (because Mom needs help with her and my uncle's start-up and she's paying me the same rate as Sylvan).
  • Got a speeding ticket.
  • Got the flu. (AGAIN. WTF. Plague much?)
  • Bronte seems not to be doing any better.
  • Still have not heard about private school job, but did find out that they're still interviewing and that they'll be in touch.
  • Got a "C" on my midterm.
  • Need to finish my resarch paper AND study for final (Wednesday).

Someday I will have a happy post.  I actually haven't posted because I didn't want to be Bitchy McBitcherson.  Then I realized people  might start thinking I fell off the face of the earth.  Not true. 

wordinista: (sleepy kitty)
Today has been the day from hell. And not the fun, cool "Paradise Lost" hell, either. No, this is the hairy, nasty hell.

I should've known, really. My gut instinct upon waking was that I needed to cancel class and go back to bed. I even bargained with myself that it'd be morally okay to do so if I worked on catching up on grading. But, no -- no, I told myself I'd be responsible.

I also told myself things would look better after a shower. They didn't. After the shower, I still wanted to cancel class and go back to bed.

For the next forty-five minutes:

If I could drop it, I dropped it.

If I could bump it, I knocked it over.

If I could trip, I tripped.

We were expecting tile installers to show up today, so I also had to herd the kitties into the spare bedroom, which they were totally not keen on. This made me run about ten minutes late. Add to this the fact that when I got in my car, I had... very, very little gas. Very little. But I didn't have time to stop for gas, so I figured I'd do it after work.

Class went well -- we finished The Importance of Being Earnest, with the all-male cast. We started watching the movie, which was nice. But once class was over, I went down to my car and headed off to the gas station...

...only to find that my check-card wasn't in my wallet.


So I drove home, praying to various deities that I wouldn't run out of gas. I got home, grabbed my check card, and went off to the gas station. I was going to go to the grocery store too, but I didn't know when the tile guys were coming.

Things really have been going on in that vein all day. I feel clumsy and tired and ditzy. And I'd take a nap, but... tile guys. They're here.
wordinista: (calm sess)
My mood was pretty grumpy until a few moments ago, between the hugely amusing kitty quiz (at bottom of entry) and the big hug I got from George.

As good a day as Wednesday was on the work front, today sucked. It sucked a lot. In fact, it was one of those "I should SO have stayed in bed" days.

I've already stated how much I hate teaching a two-hour, forty-five minute class. And, really -- almost three hours on an intro comp class? Oy.

But fill that class up with a slew of apathetic twenty-somethings who think there's nothing I can teach them, because I'm not that much older than they are, who think I don't really MEAN it when I give them reading assignments (so they don't do them), and who think I'm just teasing when I point out that I have no tolerance for sleeping in class?

Double oy. There are FIVE -- count 'em, FIVE -- people in that class who aren't on my shit list right now.

Blargh. Headache.

It's only 11:30 (and if you're keeping score at home, you're probably realizing that class should not have been let out for another fifteen minutes -- I got that fed up), and I feel like I've been up all day.

Maybe I'll take a quick fifteen minute cat nap. That should take care of the headache if nothing else.

Actually -- bright side! I don't have to deal with them again until NEXT Friday! And then I can be the uberbitch I warned them about! Whee!

But, first, what helped improve my mood from "crabby bitch" to "amused"!


Your Inner Kitty by gifted_one
Fur lengthMedium
ColorsWhite, brown eyes
Kitty accessoriesA flea collar
Favorite thing to say"OOH! SHINY!"
# of lives you have left1
Created with quill18's MemeGen 2.0!

EDIT: ...I just couldn't resist.

Your Love Situation by Amberishjewel
Your Love Is...Gentle
During Lovemaking You Act...Like a vampire, very seductive
Your Partner Is...Your soulmate
Your Partner Has Said That You...Are their favorite person
Your Love is Summed Up In A Quote."Love is bittersweet"
Created with quill18's MemeGen 2.0!
wordinista: (Squee! Doggie!)
There really, really are days when I wonder how I could possibly have come from my family. Seriously. I feel like the only sane person in the asylum some days.

See, there's this computer chair that George and I bought from Ikea, oh... two years ago? It was a good enough chair -- especially for fifty bucks. But, like all good things from Ikea that are a good bargain, the chair began to fall apart.

So, it goes in the garbage, right?

Apparently not. No, that rule's been changed. Crappy stuff that no one wants or uses now does NOT go in the trash, but is instead brought back inside with a, "Hey, how come you're throwing this out?"

Um, because it's crap?

Of course, that's just me. Maybe not everyone throws away the things that are... what's the word? Oh. Right. Useless. GRR! I actually snuck through the garage throwing things out here and there (blown out Christmas "icicle" lights, for starters), and so help me god, if any of that stuff makes it back into the house with a "Oh, I was saving that for something," I am going to go mental.

On the up-side, the site is up and running. *relieved smile*

Now I have to figure out how to get myself out of the slouch of writing apathy I seem to have fallen into with chapter 39 of OGAM. Maybe this weekend will be better for that sort of thing.

George and I got offered tickets to a charity art auction tomorrow night, which should be interesting... even though neither of us are art connoisseurs. It's a night out. What's more -- it's a night out that involves dressing up. Because as I sit here and think about it, it's occurring to me that I can't remember the last time we dressed up to go out. We went out for our anniversary in August, but that was just out to dinner... and I don't think we really dressed up for that. But, wow. A skirt! O__O A good thing I own a couple of those...
wordinista: (Default)
Evvie's coming back from Europe this week! Yay!

Seriously, I had no idea how MUCH I talked with her until I didn't. Of course, I was surprised to learn that I procrastinate just as much when she's not on AIM as when she is. I figured I'd get all sorts of work done (like, real work, as opposed to OGAM work). But I've found new and interesting ways to avoid doing work. So if nothing else, I'm resourceful in my timewasting skills.

Witness one such timewasting outlet: This blog.

Well, the Brit Lit class had it's first actual class yesterday, and it was AWESOME. They were already discussing the book before I'd even started taking attendance! (Attendance, by the way, consists of quickly counting to see if there are actually eleven bodies warming the chairs.) It was so freaking fantastic. The class flew by. Class never flies by for me. I'm always struggling to make it stretch, and... all of a sudden I looked at my watch and realized that class was OVER. It was kinda cool, actually. At no point did I ask a question and get the glazed-over-roadkill look in return. Maybe this is positive karmic payback for last semester's hell classes. Because THIS is what I dreamed of when I decided I wanted to teach.


Maybe if I offered to bear the campus president's child I'd get to keep the class. Hmm. Of course, campus president is bald and somewhat resembles a Muppet... Well, I'll find out tomorrow if I get to keep the class or not. I'd like to think that they'd tell me before NOW, but I've learned not to put anything past these yahoos.

One small problem, and I don't know if it's due to work or what, but I've been having a beeyotch of a time doing anything that has anything to do with fic or writing. I know I've got a chapter to write, but I can't seem to make myself think about it, much less write it. I've got a few other small things I want to write as well, but inspiration seems to be at an all-time low. Sometimes stepping away from it works, other times making myself write and working all the garbage out of my system works too. We'll see what works. I just know I'm having a hard time thinking creatively. Maybe it's the school semester starting up, maybe it's worries about the PhD applications, and maybe -- just maybe, coming back home has finally worn on me. I love my mother, I do -- and I get along with her. But I think I need to love her at a distance. Because you CAN be too close to the ones you love.

The wedding is a perfect example. I told her in JULY that I didn't think it was the right time to have a wedding. George and I hadn't saved up anything, and I knew I wasn't going to have time to PLAN the damned thing. Besides which, I'm so freaking disorganized, it's not funny. So Mom, being the Virgo that she is, said she'd plan everything. Sounds great, right?


Mom's got a bad habit of making promises like that to get me to go along with whatever she wants. So, she said she'd take care of the planning, and I agreed. This was July. NOTHING -- and I repeat: NOTHING has been done. Nothing. At all.

And she's still telling people George and I are getting married in May? WTF? HOW? WHERE?

So, eloping has been the hot topic of the month between me and the boy. We've been dating for going on ten years. It's kind of ridiculous NOT to get married. But what's even more ridiculous is what's unfolding right now. We agreed to getting married in May after Mom assured us (practically crying, mind you) that everything would be taken care of. I gave her names of vendors, people to call, what have you. Nothing. Nothing's been done. And when I brought up putting it off for six months? She nearly broke down into tears.

I think I'm being manipulated, and I have no freakin' idea to what end. WHY? What does she have to gain, here?

If I'd known it was going to turn out like this, I would've put my foot down in July. Either that, or I would've gone into this knowing I'd be doing every freaking thing MYSELF. And I would've done it myself.

Actually, being a firm believer in "If you want something done right, do it yourself," I can't believe I agreed to let her handle it. But, ya know, it's my mom. And I should be able to trust my mom, right?

But she's done this my whole life. She's made these great pie-in-the-sky promises ever since I was a kid, and she so seldom follows through with them. I usually just deal with it, and I usually find a way to make things work on my own, but I just didn't think she'd slip back into the same old M.O. when it came to her only child's wedding.

But, when all is said and done, it is my wedding, and if George and I want to elope, we're damned well going to elope.

It just pisses me off, because all of this time that's passed could've been USED to freaking PLAN. I can't tell you how many times I've sat down with her to talk/plan about wedding stuff, and got blown off.

Grrr. I'm never, never letting her talk me into anything again. I mean, yeah, it was a given we were going to get married. But instead of standing our collective ground and saying, "Not this year," we were both suckered in by a teary-eyed guilt trip.

And, wow, I think I've discovered the root of my inability to concentrate on writing.

Normally I'd say, "I'm going to sit down and talk with her about this." But I know it's not going to do any good. I can't frickin' count on her.

So, elopement -- sounding good, no?
wordinista: (calm sess)
Well, I guess it took me long enough, eh? I feel like such a doof, trying to figure out how everything works with this LJ thang. So far, no huge mishaps. Of course, now I'm sitting here with nothing to say. And -- if you know me -- that doesn't happen often. ;)

Bleh -- I never thought I'd ever hear myself say this (or read it), but OMG, I'm so freaking glad that the holidays are over. From the day I handed in final grades, it was nothing but: go here, do this, go there, do that, see this person, run here, buy that, decorate this, wrap that... Seriously, I was running pretty low on good-will toward men by the end, there. Because, really, on my first day away from Hell (eh, I mean "work"), I WANTED to go Christmas tree shopping? Riiiight. Because, you know -- head injury.

Don't get me wrong -- I dig the holiday season. Or I do, usually. But for some reason this year everything just rubbed me the wrong way (which can happen when it's all being shoved down your throat). Like -- okay, I got the fiance an Xbox game (among other things -- that boy was spoiled this year), and his mom calls me to ask me... something about some store that has since gone out of business. So I asked her if she'd bought him any Xbox games. Turns out we'd bought the same game. No big, right? She got hers at a store, I got mine online. In my world, the person for whom it would be a bigger pain in the ass, should not have to return the gift.

Long story short: I'm a doormat when it comes to this woman. I gritted my teeth and put on my happy voice, and said, "Sure! No problem!"

What I actually did: Told him what the gift was, ergo ruining his mom's surprise. (Yes. I know. Bad me.) And then, on the day after Christmas (!!!) we went to the store and exchanged the game for another one (even though it didn't come from that store).

But my point (lost there, for a moment) was that the incident shouldn't have ticked me off as much as it did. I've got a pretty good temper usually, but it was frayed and thin for some reason this year. Ah well. It's over, the holidays are done, and life is slowly starting to return to normal.

But, on a happy note -- it looks like the Brit Lit class that I'm teaching this semester won't get cancelled!!! *does happy dance*


wordinista: (Default)

April 2011

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