Christ.

Things move quickly, I suppose. It's sort of ironic — I ended that entry with a note about plans changing, and this morning, they did.

Max texted me that the funeral is this weekend. Friday, specifically.

"So I guess I'm not going", because there were no flights.

I pointed out that thanks to the atmospheric river, temps are actually much warmer than they have been — "so if we want to drive..."

I texted a friend of ours that cat-sits for us, usually, asking if she was free. She said yes, as long as I was fine with them getting fed two hours early on Thursday.

"Yeah, of course."

So.

Text exchange with Maximo back and forth, re: whether or not he wanted me to go; I hate "well, it's up to you", because when it's shit like this, it's not up to me. If I'm going out with you as support, I want to know that you want that support, goddam.

Anyway he admitted at long last that yes, he would like it, so we're leaving Thursday.


Today was something of a mixed bag, shall we say.

Woke up with the alarm at 7:20, talked to Maximus about the whole funeral business, then fell back asleep because I hadn't actually fallen asleep last night until almost 3am. (Sigh.)

Almost immediately went into a nightmare about my ex, one where he found out where I'm living now and after I got home from running an errand in town (that I'd walked to; town is small enough that this is plausible), followed me home, stole my keys to keep me from getting into the house, and ended up literally chasing me through the neighborhood.

Woke up mid-panic attack, fully hyperventilating, fight-or-flight response in full gear, nearly kicked one of the cats trying to get free of the bedclothes. Cool.

Laid there for a very long time just trying to get my heart rate back down to normal. I haven't talked to him in eight and a half years. I have seen him at a few points, but it's been the sort of thing where I've had the ability to just leave, so I have, without talking to him.

(I know that if for some horrible reason I did end up in the same place as him at the same time with no way to escape, he would try to talk to me — I don't know that he'd be able to help it. I saw him do it to others. I also know that I would probably just end up giving him the cut direct, but, well, you know.)

Eventually did get up and get ready to do therapy, etc, but God, that cast a shadow over the whole fucking day.


Happier news, suppose: I made bread today. Very simple stuff. In essence:

500 g bread flour (~4ish cups but woe betide you if you're using volumetric measurements for flour)
1.5 c water
2 tsp coarse salt (kosher, or I use coarse sea salt for mine)
2 tsp instant yeast

Throw into a bowl, knead until it passes the windowpane test (about eight minutes at speed 2 in my KitchenAid). Allow to rise in a warm place (on top of the coffee maker, here) until doubled in size. Tip out onto a baking sheet, shape into a loaf, allow to rise until puffy and, well, large, another 45 minutes, then slash the top and bake at 425F until browned, about 25 minutes in my oven.

I opt for crispy crust by preheating a cast-iron pan with the oven and filling it with boiling water just before I shove the bread in, but you do you.

Anyway it's dead fucking simple and it makes a loaf of bread that the Maximus goes nuts for.

Literally — I put it out on a board, just as a, "we can have some of this with olives and cheese and some wine while we're waiting for dinner to finish baking" (I made pot pie), and he flipped and ate a third of the loaf by his lonesome. Good lord.


I did a tarot reading for myself as sort of a, "great, what next?" post-therapy.

It was...enlightening?

Midway through doing it, I had the funny little revelation that the deck I bought for myself a couple of years ago that I cannot do a proper reading with is something that a friend of mine would probably have better luck with, because it's moon-themed, and I am just...look, I know what I am, and I am not Moon Energy. So.

The upshot of the reading is that yes shit sucks right now, why am I asking my tarot deck for confirmation that it sucks? It does, you're welcome, the end. Acknowledging that it sucks and doing what needs to be done will at least maybe help with the feeling of absolute misery, so, uh.

...thanks, goblin deck, for that...?

I did laugh while doing the pulls, but — yeah.

I did tarot in part because I joked with my therapist that perhaps I should just pay an Etsy witch to uncurse me. "Do you know the name of the one that uncursed the Seattle Mariners? Do you think she does more than just baseball?"

He laughed.

The — reading was basically, like, "look if you want to reach out to weird metaphysical shit for help, then yes, find that Etsy witch and pay her", which was deeply funny to me, but yeah.

Some part of me is like, "this is ridiculous, you are a PhD scientist" — and another part of me is like, "but, you know..."

So I suppose we shall see? :P

If anyone has a preferred Etsy witch (or method of curse removal), LET ME KNOW.


Oh! Right, of course, yes.

The other weird thing is that one of my fics on AO3 has suddenly gained almost 125 hits over the last two days. No kudos, no new comments, just a fuckload more hits. Like, why?? Do I get to know?

...do I want to know?

(It's explicit, tagged clearly with what it is, and fairly unremarkable, so I can't imagine it's been linked anywhere, but — huh.)