Still counts as yesterday.

 The saga continues.  My dryer still doesn't work, Light's best guess is that the ductwork is both too long and contains too many turns so the dryer believes the air flow is inadequate and shuts down. Or it's overheating.  We've had two separate people come in and try to address the problem, and both of them said that nothing was blocking the vent.   

 

The dishwasher was scheduled to be delivered on Tuesday, during a 10 hour window.  It was not.  Light called the next day, they said it would be delivered that day.  It was not.  Light called the next day, they said it  would be delivered that day.  It was not.  Light called today, they said it was not going to be delivered today, something about the truck being loaded incorrectly, and said truck was going back to the warehouse to be sent out again next week, and they'd notify us when that happened.   All information was received because of Light calling the next day, during which I moved through like seven stages of anxiety, settling on punchy, I think.

 

Noodle separated/dislocated her dewclaw and she's almost entirely unfazed by this.  She's limping sometimes, but possible on the other leg. I get all up in my head thinking about what might be going on with the animals that I'm not picking up on. 

 

I walked again today, around the pond again.  I hadn't been walking for a couple days for fear of leaving the house without the delivery people there and returning to the house with the delivery people here and having to go past them to hide in my room.      It's around Wright's Pond, if I keep the pond on the same side I should have a very easy time finding my way out even if I stray off the path, but there's still a sense of accomplishment when I manage to follow the blazes.  

 

I've finally started moving boxes of read books down from the attic.  we've been here for over a year, finally got enough of our shit together to find more places to put bookcases, and it's not going to be as much as it was in the last house (yet), but I'm actually delighted to discover that there's going to be a bunch of books that I'm either okay sending back into storage or sending on to whatever their next home is.  I'm also finding all the small moderately squishy things I used to pad the parts of the boxes that needed something extra to keep the books from sliding around.  So far, it's mostly been decorative scarves and very small stuffed animals.  

 

It's come time to admit that I need to buy a couple pairs of nice gloves, attach some yarn/ribbon/string to them and thread them through the few coats that I wear in the winter.  Because I have already lost two pairs of gloves this winter (and the purple leather gloves I managed to hold onto for two years weren't anywhere I could find them last year and I remain unable to find them).   I haven't been anywhere. (I might have told google to fuck right the fuck off when it emailed me to give me the map of where I went in 2020, and deleted the email entirely unread.  And by might, I mean I did.)  Delight and Spark's driveway, walks in the woods, the car to get to the aforementioned driveway and the house.   The walks in the woods, I'm usually wearing the gloves for, Delight would let me know if I'd left some gloves lying around their driveway, the car contains a higher percentage of the total masks I own than I thought it did, but no gloves.  So it's time to turn to toddler-tactics, I guess.  

If it's tomorrow, that means I'm turning 45 in a week.   It feels tacky to still have feelings about my birthday, much less fraught feelings.   I've found the cake I want to order, Delight might be making me a cake, another QT person might be making me a french toast casserole, we're going to try to order from Sofra, I'll hang out on the couch and play farming simulator games and rewatch seasons of Taskmaster and it will be chill and lovely.  Even in a not-pandemic, even when I'm not working Primrose, it's not like I become magically unawkward and socially confident around my birthday and figure out how to hang out with people, but I'm longing for some sort of connection and unsure how or from whom or any of those things. 

Maudlin means bedtime!