My day looked practically identical. Even down to the delsum and the ruffles.

I have no idea. I guess since pneumonia is relatively common they just take it as rote. But I can tell you what an ER doc is going to do for my lungs and what my pulmonolgist is going to do for my lungs and they aren’t the same thing and one is going to work and one isn’t and the ER doc is going to be 10x more…

There’s something about hospitals and lung problems that they just can’t effin can’t deal with for whatever reason. I’ve slugged through day of pneumonia to avoid the ER to get to my pulmonologist because they don’t know what they are doing.

I generally walk about 40+ miles a week. People give me crap about my expensive work boots and my compression socks, but I will not have fucked up veins and feet when I’m old. 

I can watch this shit all day on the internet.

I’m not doing anything drastic. But recently I was puttering around and saw something about the idea of hair holding memories. You know why, my hair is long, getting annoying, I can’t barely wear it down anymore without it getting knotted on itself, and I need to shed some PTSD, even if just metaphorically.

My job means I walk about 7 miles a day, so I got a little chuckle mixed with ‘ow my legs hurt’ and slightly jealous of your less than a mile day. I’ve got a dog, so even if I have the plague I end up with more than a mile. 

Well placed! 1770s America. 

Not a character, not at disney. I work at historical sites, and sometimes wear appropriate historical clothing.

When we get to Old People Season, it’s a mixed bag. Tours will be easy and light—capturing an audience will be easy. Some of the best visitor interactions happen because the just dropped the kids off at college empty nesters are chill as fuck. But it will also be racist, and complain-y and full of old men trying to…

Having gone to a women’s college where the dorms were mostly women but no way exclusively, male guests had to deal with whatever we did in our own space and we didn’t alter our behavior to deal with their whims. Dudes that didn’t manage it were the responsibility of their student person.  But it was our living space.

Boys will be boys!

My boyfriend made it about an hour and a half in and quit.

They are either leaving something, or leaving with something. So gross. 

I wasn’t even raised to do cleaning! We had things we had to do—mostly school work, practice our various instruments, not destroy the house, but I don’t actually remember having to do anything specifically. I knew how to do laundry when I went to college-I gave up on waiting for wash to get done at home and started…

And then say they ‘cleaned’ while the same goddamn pair of socks is on the floor until the elastic in them falls apart and the bananas on the counter are liquifying in their skins.

Seriously. There was a visitor at work today that looked, AND SOUNDED, like a young Matthew MacFayden and that was seriously distracting enough.

mhm. Never again. Not within 24 hours of his incident. Nope.

There’s so much bizarre that came out of that interview, but that claim was profoundly odd. 

He’s a rescue mutt, so no one was docking his tail and I’m sure not going to do it. It’s normally so damn cute, curled up on top of him, wagging about.