(no subject)

I've ordered a covid test.  On the assumption that even if I'm likely to fuck up one self-administered test, fucking up two is even more unllikely.  Mostly, I'm trying to assume it's bronchitis.  Or bronchitis-like enough to not matter, especially if I'm not going to set foot in a doctor's office unless it gets a lot more dire.   But I've also scheduled an telehealth appointment for Friday, in case there's something I should be doing that I'm not.  I did manage to call and cancel the optometrist appointment in late December, it's far too scary out there to be indulging in that sort of thing, and though I'm finding myself peeking under my progressives a lot, that seems better than going out into the world.  Maybe I'll try to buy some off-the-shelf reading glasses to supplement the progressives.   (It certainly doesn't help that Noodle is a shameless face-and-glasses licker)

We haven't ordered a tree or tried to buy one yet, but I really want one.  We haven't really figured out what to do about Noodle and a tree, since it'll be her first tree and while our ornaments are eclectic, they're not entirely puppy proof (it feels odd and poignant that I still fondly remember Funnyface eating enough of the tree to hork every year) 

I've been struggling with therapy lately.  Everything that's bad is a dull and grinding kind of bad and varies very little from day to day or even week to week.  There are future things that I have lots of anxiety about, but they exist in the future in a nebulous enough way that they might as well be imaginary most of the time (will I know how to leave the house? what I will be or do now that I'm not working or being nanny-adjacent when being at home is something someone does by choice? will I remember all the ways to be a person in a world that I scraped together over years of observation and practice?) It all seems both speculative and self-indulgent in not-useful ways. I know I'm not going to be the same person on the other side of this, but I've probably got half a dozen iterations of me left to be before I die.

I lost a small notebook today, and have gotten stuck in this small loop of checking the same three places.  It's still not there, and I still hate losing things, but I'm holding out hope that since I had it in the car when I parked in the driveway and the only place I've been since is inside it must be here somewhere.

Having finished my postcards to GA voters, I've moved on to holiday cards, and I've either lost, deleted or done something even more/less clever with my list of addresses. Some I can re-find, some I can't, so let me know by some means if you'd like a card. (they're supercute this year).

The Nyquil's kicking in and the dog's hiccupping in her sleep, so instead of finding the perfect subject line, I'm going to post and go to bed.