"country songs never help you sleep"

 I found my new favorite Tabby Cat (the world's best extension).  I got multiple pictures I like of me taken yesterday, with Delight and with Delight and Spark. My head hurts like I'm being slowly crushed to death, and neither allergy nor migraine meds seems to touch it.  I'm behind on email, and I'm behind on reaching out to anyone. I was complaining about not reading enough recently and then looked at my YTD list and realized I've read 58 (including graphic novels, novellas and poetry) and 52 if I don'.t

 

This year's recommendation so far is Mask of Shadows, fantasy about tryouts to be one of the queen's assassians, but also about a genderfluid character whose fluidity is entirely nonessential to the plot.  And Dread Nation because civil war zombies and race (and a fucking cliff hanger - write faster).

 

My to-read list is approaching a thousand books, carefully categorized by their availability on the minuteman ebook system, the bpl system and hoopla. I'll never get through them all, stash exceeds life expectancy and all.  

 

I'm having a lot of acquistive feelings these days, I just bought a crate of tea from T2, and a new quilt for the downstairs bed to replace the fuzzy purple thing that we use as a bedcover during the cold months.  I want all of Torrid's bralettes, everything Coolibar puts out (but especially swim leggings, I object to the skirt concept on bathingsuits but I'm more than happy to try to cover all possibly skin. (this years parasol is silver again but with a jaunty hunter green interior).   I probably need a new pair of sandals, since the last pair bought in 2014 is starting to truly shred.  (I've bought house shoes and watershoes and boots since then, just not sandals). I want that new Kiyonna dress with pockets. I want to buy every single ebook that bookriot tells me is on sale (but ebooks don't keep me safe the way books that physically exist do, and I keep whittling the books in my house down, possibly because I need more space than I need safety. 

 

I want to reach out to people, except I'm always tired and sad. I want to meet new people, I'm so story-hungry sometimes it hurts, I want to volunteer but I hate crowds. I talk about crying with my therapist, and how every time she tells me it's okay to not hold back noise, I stop crying because I'm crying wrong.  I want to go to a meetup, I want to cook more, I want to road trip, I want to want to clean more. I want to be convinced that I'm salvagable.  You know, little things.