DemonGoddess

Happy Birthday!

Resisting the urge to reply to those age verification help pleas that… the age verification is actually an IQ test in disguise.

I found out today that my hairdresser died 2 days ago. But it’s not that simple. I don’t have friends, you see. I forgot how to do that, and being someone’s full-time, live-in carer means friends are things other people make. But she was my friend.
She’s been cutting my hair for over a decade now. Even when she would simply disappear for a couple of months because of personal issues, I always stuck with her, when others left to get a more ‘reliable’ hairdresser. And even lately, when she was clearly going through really tough times and appointments got constantly cancelled, I made it clear to her that I’ll be first in line she wants to come back to cutting hair. And she appreciated that, a lot.
She loved my baking. The best brownies she’d ever tasted were my homemade ones.
A few weeks ago, she’d very happily made an appointment for me to cut my hair today. It seemed things were finally looking up for her. And today, I arrived with my own homemade choc-mousse filled nuggets, stuffed with my own chocolate mousse recipe. Everyone that’s tried my mousse have said it’s genuinely the best mousse they’d ever tasted. So, if she thought my brownies were amazing, she’d have gone nuts for these.
Yeah, I was always there for her in the past… but I wasn’t there when it really mattered. Maybe… just maybe...

I am done peopling for the weekend...🙃

I am done peopling for the weekend...🙃

I am done peopling for the weekend...🙃

Fuck the American healthcare system - right up Main Street with absolutely no prep, lube, or aftercare. We started seeing a doctor for Cold’s spine injury, and he’s been out of work going on two months. Now they’re saying his surgery may not be until August, because his insurance wants a specific clinic to do the surgery. He could have been cut open, sewed up, and sent home to heal last week, but insurance said “Nuh-uh, you’re going upstate or you’re going crippled.”
My husband has always been a drafthorse of a worker. He leaves his coworkers in the dust, stays late, goes the extra mile, and shows up while others no-call/no-show because it’s raining. His reward is being shoved to the back of the shelf without pay to wait for a surgery that’s needed to keep him from being paralyzed while several companies yell at us about what they’re not getting done. We’re drowning in medical bills and other bills, and insurance isn’t paying nearly enough. This country needed healthcare reform decades ago – not yesterday, literal decades ago. Instead, we have an ugly-ass ballroom for ugly-ass souls to pat each other on the back after failed or faked assassination attempts.
I’m just...I’m so tired. Seeing him going through all this and in horrible pain, knowing I can’t do anything more for him than I’m doing...and all the while, my mental health has tanked. How are we supposed to do this? How do we keep taking that boot to the ribs without standing up and throwing fists? 

Every time I think we’ve gotten through a crisis in real life, something else pops up. Now we’ve been told my doctor-averse husband will end up paralyzed if he doesn’t have surgery...and we’re talking serious consequences within a few months, not years, paralysis in years, not decades.
It’s not just Cold’s injury, either. We’ve had a deluge of stress this year. I had to have surgery because of constant headaches. Cold, aside from the sudden increase in chronic pain leading to his terrifying diagnosis, got sick for the first time in over a decade, and I’ve gotten sick at least a dozen times (enough to need medication) since Christmas. We lost Woozle in January. My mother may be having a joint replaced this year on account of injury and age. My mother-in-law suddenly decided I’m the antichrist despite being female and has done her damnedest to make life harder than it needs to be. On top of all that, Heiferlump’s health took another turn, and she’s on more medication than she ever has been before. That cat started last year healthy as a horse, and now we worry about her constantly; yesterday, she climbed her cat tower for the first time in a year, and I was torn between happy to see her with so much energy, and worried this is a sign her time is nearing. And I won’t even get into the problems we’re having with the house, that we cannot afford to fix and also can’t afford to not fix, and the fact that this storm season is unusually active.
We. Need. A frigging break. Somewhere out there, there’s a Ghost-shaped curse doll. If whichever stab-happy motherfucker who found it would just...not...at least for a few months...that would be great.

Look on the bright side everybody.
Five Months is a good amount of prep time. 

Every now and then, I take up a small sewing, mending, or needlework project, and I wonder why I don’t do it more often. Then I realize exactly why: somewhere between my chair and the back door—over half the house—is a one inch long needle the thickness of one of my husband’s beard hairs, dangling from thread the color of our floors, and I’m effectively blind.
...because I heard a bird.

Yes. I heard a bird and walked through several doorways, needle in hand, to see what it was; on the way back, my brain dumped its cache and the needle vanished. It has ceased to exist. It’s a brand new needle, too, so sharp AF. And our floors have streaks of grey, so the needle blends in like it’s invisible. Unless I magnet-sweep while walking like a Jain with a broom, the second my shoes come off, that little bugger is going to come careening out of nowhere like a heat-seeking missile just so it can stab me in the foot. Curse you, happy singing bird, for damning my feet to such fowl treatment. May all your bath water be just slightly too warm or cold to be perfect.

Had to order something called a “happy hoodie” for the old lady Siamew.  She has an ear infection, is being treated for it, yet is now scratching furrows in her right ear.  So, hopefully this will protect her ears from herself.  

Did you know New York actually has 12 seasons? 

https://12seasons.nyc/

Had to order something called a “happy hoodie” for the old lady Siamew.  She has an ear infection, is being treated for it, yet is now scratching furrows in her right ear.  So, hopefully this will protect her ears from herself.  

Had to order something called a “happy hoodie” for the old lady Siamew.  She has an ear infection, is being treated for it, yet is now scratching furrows in her right ear.  So, hopefully this will protect her ears from herself.  

Had to order something called a “happy hoodie” for the old lady Siamew.  She has an ear infection, is being treated for it, yet is now scratching furrows in her right ear.  So, hopefully this will protect her ears from herself.  

Aside from my paranoia as an adult, my parents’ homophobia is likely the only reason they haven’t figured out I’m bi. Hearing your teenage girl singing the chorus of Spill the Wine as “Do I dig that girl? Heh!” probably should have made them question things. Fortunately, Heiferlump just thinks I’m embarrassing; her reaction to me singing is to roll over, grunt, fart, and go back to sleep with her paws over her nose. Cats don’t let you get a big head.
(Yeah. Almost forty and I just figured out I’ve been singing that wrong all these years. Freud would be clicking his heels with joy over that slip. And almost forty and I only noticed now that autocorrect cut my age the first time. Ugh.)

Beware the Ides of March!

Always love your pets. You never know when you’ll lose them. 

"will-o'-the-wisp happenstance acclivity" or "brown library movement of good fortune compulsion " or  "guesstimate happenstance door " 
Are these spam bots, or just trying to come up with some old style weekly prompts? 

Sleeping naked is the shit when you’re young. Then, one day, you’re middle-aged with a cat who likes sleeping between the sheets and has frigid toes, and you start second guessing everything.
Heiferlump, by the way, wasn’t just thawing out her frosted toebeans on my bare ass. She also kept wiping her cold, wet nose on the ticklish spot between my thigh and cheek every time I dozed off. I’m not ashamed to say I committed the unforgivable crime of yeeting the baby off the bed. I’m not sorry. Kid needs some fuzzy socks or something.

And for those of us in the northeast, here comes Snowmageddon Part 2, beginning Sunday morning and featuring blizzard conditions, winds of up to 55 miles per hour, and accumulations of 18 to 24 inches. For everyone affected, stay home, stay safe and stay warm!

Happy Birthday!!!!!

Happy Birthday!!!!!

Nothing like a trip to the veterinary ER to make a night interesting…

Long story made short, Freyja had an abscess of her left anal gland. How did we know this? She decided to pass blood. While I’m not particularly squeamish, nor prone to the vapors when confronted with blood, this is my baby girl. She is not allowed to bleed, or have pain, or do any of the things that will make me want to strangle a handy god or three. She is an innocent furbaby, and deserves nothing but joy.
But this at least was something that can be dealt with, and she is now home, loopy on pain meds and wearing the Inflatable Collar of Great Annoyance. She would like everyone to know that she lives with exceedingly evil humans, but we will be forgiven with sufficient treatos.

Doing some small tweaks. Member profile tabs are now all URL sticky.
Are there any other areas that should be URL sticky?