(no subject)

 I wanted to try to start every other day, but that means that I'm writing this one while already tired. 

I talked with some people today about some of my other convention work, the stuff I did way back when, that I'm still both proud of, uncomfortable with and barely remember all at once.  There was a lot going on back then, and I'm much happier with my world and the people in than I was then, but sometimes it felt like good work too.  Unfortunately, I think the quote they took away from what I was saying was "you can't fix this, even if you figured out how, it won't stay fixed.  you can just try to mitigate."    I remember feeling like I just had to let people feel listened to, even if I thought they were wrong, even if they were explaining Men's Rights to me, even if they were trying to blame me for things I was or wasn't doing.  I'm not sure I feel the same way anymore, but I suspect I kind of do.  There's a lot of sadness and exhaustion and wanting to be appreciated (loved) tied up in those years.  I thought I was getting better about that, I hope I'm getting better at it.  I've got a lot of boundary work yet to do and maybe be simultaneously over and under-correcting.  Delight once told me I was the most "optimistic pessimist" they knew, and it's not quite the right phrase, but it's close.  Grimly hopeful, maybe?
 

However, I also made kung pao roasted brussels sprouts and they were awesome.  I took my first walk since the week before thanksgiving down the the structure I refer to as "my house" on the banks of Spot Pond.  It's barn-like, some sort of storage structure, I suspect, and definitely one that is at least a little bit upkept, it's not crumbling, it's just lightly mysterious, look a little bit like it might be historic and I can't find a placard on it.    And I very much want to show it to other people, and maybe in the post-pandemic I'll try and drag the three or four people I might actually want to share the walk with along, but for now, I'll just think wistfully about doing so.  
 

Tomorrow, someone will come into our house and snake our dryer vent (is that even the term?) so I can wash clothes for what feels like the first time in forever but is only a week.  And, after a months long pandemic-thwarted journey, the dishwasher we ordered back in what I'm pretty sure was 2018 is theoretically arriving tomorrow.  Once again, I don't want people in our house, I don't think there's any way to be calm about it, but I really want to do laundry without the house catching on fire  (old dryer was an old model, this new model tells us very clearly that its filter is 80% blocked and the last serviceperson who came to our house clarified that it wasn't any part of the installation they could reach, it was almost certainly the part in the attic.) and I feel like if we don't get this dishwasher, it'll be at least another six months before we have another chance and I should probably have thought more about putting the installation off, but I didn't and it's too late now.
 

Tomorrow I'll take some clonidine, play a farming simulator, see if I can figure out a way to talk to the people I want to talk to even when I'm pretty sure I have absolutely nothing to say.  For now, bedwards.