Marissa Lingen (mrissa) wrote,
Marissa Lingen
mrissa

This, that, also some of the other thing.

Woke up at 4:20 with a crick in my neck. Rolled back onto "my" side of the bed. Woke up again at 5:00 hungry. Sigh. I am tired all the time. So I guess it doesn't matter too much if I start the tired at 5:00 instead of 6:30 this morning. Still: bleh.

missista and I took a walk with our neighbors yesterday. One of the said neighbors is 12 years old and multiply handicapped, so Ista got to walk with a monkey with wheels. She is so enamored of wheels. She kept leaping around in joy and excitement, making happy puppy faces at Martin in his wheeled outdoor chair. Martin made happy kid faces at her, and I had a nice conversation with his parents (Martin can't talk), so all was well on that front. I'm also glad that we found out that Sammy the younger next-door puppy, Ista's best friend, is deaf, because now if he's napping on the lawn on a warm fall-like day and she's going nuts barking for his attention, we can just move upwind of him and let him smell us there; problem solved.

It's snowing this morning. This means I will have to shovel the skijump driveway before I go out. It also means that I won't have to wash Ista's entire lower half every time she comes inside, and that she will run in joyful circles throwing snow into the air with her nose, so I'd call that part a win. Also, I like snow. It turns the world the right colors again.

timprov and I hung a bunch of art yesterday, so I'm getting used to that, looking up to see things on the walls that didn't used to be there. Also I ran some errands, including one that resulted in a silly and unexpected minor Christmas gift for markgritter. Silly and unexpected minor Christmas gifts are a good, good thing. Possibly my favorite holiday thing.

On the other side, fake cinnamon scent was on my Least Favorite Holiday Things list before the dysosmia, and now I would cheerfully strangle whoever formulated the stuff: it's bad and strong enough to be a strong-dysosmia trigger. Great. (Can they really not smell that all the back and bottom notes are missing? Or do they just not care? It's like playing a melody badly on an out-of-tune penny whistle and expecting that your listeners will hear an entire symphony: they know what you're alluding to, but it's not the same.)

I intend to do kitchen stuff a lot today -- all or most of the cooking for the week, I hope, so timprov and I can just heat portions of things when we need food. I may also make the fudge today, if I get really ambitious. Or I may use that time to work on a short story. Stranger things have happened than either of those possibilities, I feel sure.
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