Why can't things go smooth...

Why can't things ever go smooth?

One of these days I'd like to get a look at my character sheet. I suspect some poor fool somewhere took the 'Things Don't Go Smooth' complication from the Serenity RPG.

That job I had? Don't have it any more. No, it wasn't my back; no, it wasn't my left knee. My right thigh, of all things, decided to act up and now I can walk for anywhere between ten minutes and a half hour before it starts to ache. Which doesn't work so well with a job in a warehouse.

I went to a doctor, of course, who told me that a nerve was compressed and here, take these pills. If they won't work in two weeks come back and we'll see.

Well, in two weeks it was enough worse that I quit my job and can't afford to go back to the doctor. Fortunately Linette has saved my ass, at least temporarily, with a part-time job at her lovely little store in Lyons. About thirty hours a week will keep me going for a little while, at least, and it's quite a bit of fun. Nice thing about it is when I'm done cleaning/straightening/rearranging and there aren't any customers in the store, I can pretty much do what I like. Which has been a lot of jewelry-making and a bit of writing. Plus a lot of messing around online, but I'm working on keeping that down.

I have several sets of jewelry out for display here at Linette's. Nobody's bought any yet but I've had several people interested. I'm also looking around or other places I could put jewelry out on consignment; this is a great area for that kind of thing.

Also doing herbal stuff. I mean, I was making bath salts for people anyway. I pick up cool little glass bottles at the Salvation Army and such, fill them with bath salts, and put them out for sale. Again with the looking around for consignment places, and again I have several in mind. Soon comes the lovely day of packing up samples and trying to sell my stuff to all these lovely little shops.

The ladies at the apartment office have already offered to buy some of the bath salts and such as drawing prizes for summer parties. And they'll put my fliers in the new resident packets, once I print them up. Which would involve coming up with a company name and advertising stuff. Ack!

Wasn't I trying to get out of sales?

Really, I'd rather just make the stuff. In fact, I've decided what I want to do when I grow up: make stuff. Tough making a living that way, though, hence the sales bit. Hopefully I'll be better at it when I actually like the stuff I'm selling. Though if there's anyone out there who has a clue about marketing and such, I wouldn't mind a bit of advice.

In other news, I have persistently failed to go to church, mostly because Saturday night is the only night that both Tim and I can usefully stay up late; thus, we do, and then it's noon on Sunday and church is over. I might take advantage of the extra services most churches have during Holy Week to make it in for something, at least.

Just sold about a hundred and fifty bucks of stuff right at the end of the day -- yay! And the one lady was very interested in my jewelry, though she got distracted by buying her wedding dress.

Off to gaming night!

Tough night

Had a tough night last night.

I missed two days of work this week, due to leg problems. (They're getting better, albeit slowly.) I did go back to work Friday, determined to stay the whole day and earn some money -- two days doesn't put me behind, quite, but it certainly is going to make it harder to catch up on the credit cards. Fridays we usually get the option of leaving early or staying, and I decided to stay.

And wound up leaving a half hour early anyway, when there was nothing but nothing to do. Not even cleaning -- I'd spent most of the day making sure bolts of fabric were in the right place. So I left, feeling vaguely guilty but determined to enjoy the extra time, or at least do something useful with it.

And (foolishly) wound up stopping at the Humane Society on the way home. I didn't come home with a cat, but it was a close thing. Her name is Ebony, she's lovely lithe and black, a bit shy but friendly, licked my fingers thoroughly, and has extra toes on her front paws. And I fell in love.

I can't bring her home; I already have two more cats than I'm allowed to, and, frankly, two more cats than I can afford to. I can't afford to sponsor her so that someone else can adopt her more inexpensively. I can't really even afford to donate canned cat and dog food, which they're in desperate need of. I'm getting suck of hrowing away every request for a donation that comes in the mail -- granted, most of them I wouldn't give to anyway, but I can't and I hate that the decision has been made for me.

I'd think about volunteering at the Humane Society, but I know better. I already have two more cats than etc. and I know myself.

So I came home feeling grumpy and helpless andfairly ill as well, since on top of everything else I have a cold. Sat down in front of the computer for a while before heading over to Tim and Ray's, and wound up sitting there longer than I'd intended. And then got to watch Tim pulling out of the parking lot without so much as a 'I'm going out to X, do you want to come along?'

I got a little grumpy at myself for that. Yes, we're working towards being a triad. Right now? We're not. Tim and Ray are primary partners. I'm secondary in the reationship. Even if we were all primaries, I can't expect the two of them to spend every moment with me, any more than either of them would expect the same.

And besides which, I hadn't entirely decided if I wanted company at all. But the decision had been taken out of my hands and I'm sick of that.

Well, I thouht about it a bit and realized that Tim had gone to pick Ray up from work. Which is fine, no need for me to come along (though he's invited me along on errands often enough). I'd just head over once they got home.

Half an hour passed, then an hour. No sign of them. I finally called Ray's cell phone, only to discover they'd gone out to dinner. Without me.

And you know? I can't be upset at them for that. I wasn't upset at them, really, I just felt horribly left out, and alone, and then really grumpy at myself for being upset, and ... and and and.

Part of the problem, I knew, was low blood sugar; it'd been a while since lunch (and they were out eating, weren't they and...I stopped myself there, but it wasn't easy.) I moped around the kitchen for a while, discovered that since we nearly always eat at Tim and Ray's that I have really nothing around to cook (and isn't that another grumpitude, that he won't come over to my place, I have to go to him...), and decided that to heck with it, I was gonna have popcorn for dinner, and nutrition could wait until tomorrow.

I was out of popcorn.

I coul cry, or I could go shopping. So I went shopping and cried, at least a little. On the way I stopped at Hobby Lobby to look for plant stands -- did I mention I hate not having disposable income? And this is me, who cheers myself up by buying things. Not expensive things; just small ones.

Can't even afford that.

Went to Target, wiping my eyes. On the way conceived of a plan to make a plant stand -- there are those 2x4s someone put next to the dumpster, aren't there? That cheered me a little, enough that I managed to plan a healthier dinner than I might have while in Target, enough that I managed to avoid buying potato chips to cheer myself up.

So, thus fortified, I head home. I plan to leave Tim and Ray alone for the evening -- I feel that I've been over there too much, surely they need some time alone, and anyway I'm awfully hungry and dinner will take a while. Perhaps I can check on those 2x4s while the water is boiling. Instead I leave the groceries in the car and walk right up to their place, thence to burst into tears and apologize all over poor Tim.

Who to his credit doesn't apologize for going out to dinner (Ray did, later, but that's Ray and he'll apologize for anything you let him) because he hadn't done anything wrong. I apologized to him, actually, and told them both that I'm having a really hard time with things sometimes -- I'm trying to figure out who I am, I'm trying to work out how I fit in wih the two of them, I'm redoing my etire life forchrissakes -- and got hugs and support. I do love them, and it helps so, so much.

And headed back home. I needed to eat, and I knew if I stayed much longer someone would feed me something and dammit, I'm grown up enough to be able to feed myself and I've been a bother anyway. On the way I checked for the 2x4s -- alas, gone, but I'm sure I can scrounge up something in the way of wood. Started the water for the pasta, poured heavy cream into a saucepan for the sauce. Added onion flakes, basil, oregano, thyme, and, after some hesitation, tarragon. Let the water heat and the proto-sauce simmer and set about getting the place in shape. Empty the dishwasher, refill it with dirties, handwash a few things ... deal with the mail ... clean up a couple magazines from the floor ... feed the rats ... oh hell.

Siegfried's dead. Cold, stiff. Likely while I was at work; certainly Reinhart had been in there with his dead brother for several hours.

I very nearly melted down right there. But I couldn't just leave him. I found a hammer to dig with, took him outside, and buried him in the flower garden. I still need to clean out the cage for Reinhart. I don't know, yet, if I'll be getting him another brother. On the one hand, he'll be lonely...on the other, I really haven't been paying them enough attention, and I don't want to do that to another rat.

On the gripping hand, if I rescue a rat from the Humane Society he'll still have a better life than he would elsewhere. I don't know.

I left the hammer on the porch and washed my hands. Started the water and the sauce again, put in the tortellini. Stirred the sauce and wished I'd had some chicken to put in. Did a little more straightening while things cooked. Eventually, divided tortellini and sauce between a bowl for now and a plastic container for later, and ate. It was very, very good. Though it really needed some chicken, too.

I will start keeping more food around the house. I need to not depend on Tim for meals all the time.

I cheered myself with a bowl of popcorn and a favourite book. It helped...some. But it was a long, awful evening and I came out of it feeling less strong than previously. I don't know.

Late, late night.

So Tim's been sick as anything. Coughing, achy, fever going up and down and up and down and up and down. Course he didn't tell me about the history of spiking fevers with delirium until last night, so I wasn't too worried until then -- as soon as he said that, I knew I was going to be staying at his and Ray's place for the night instead of my apartment.

For those still catching up, Tim is the gay man mentioned in my earlier post, and my lover. Perhaps an odd thing for a woman to say, but the situation is an odd thing. He's perfectly capable of appreciating a pretty woman; it's the typical female way of thinking that's not attractive to him, and apparently I'm sufficiently male in my thought processes that I count as a guy in his world. Which is fine by me; nay, bloody brilliant. Mostly I try not to think about it too hard, in case it stops working.

Ray is his boyfriend. Ray's more into girls (and he's plenty into me, and vice-versa) but somehow Tim and he work just fine. I did say it was an odd thing, didn't I?

Ray means well, but he also sleeps pretty deeply, and hasn't got a lot of experience with fevers. I do, and I sleep lightly, so I figured I'd crash on the couch and if I heard Tim talking to orcs (which is what he did the last time he had a bad fever), I'd haul his butt to the hospital.

Tim couldn't sleep, so he alternated between lying in bed for a while and snuggling with me on the couch. And the fever went up, and down, and up, and down, and never quite reached 102 but kept coming close. And then the fever would break and he's shiver and I'd wrap the blanket around him and hold him close and pray. And then it'd go up and he'd moan and sweat and ... it was awful.

Probably would have been fine had the thermometer not broken. I can tell if he's warmer than usual but I can't judge it finely enough, so that was when I decided it was time for the hospital run. Woke up Ray, got everyone bundled up and into the car, and off we went.

Which was the part I hadn't been looking forward to. I don't like hospitals much anyway, and on top of that there was the possibility of them giving Ray and I a hard time when we both wanted to stay with Tim.

Which they totally didn't. Didn't blink, didn't look at us funny. Nothing.

Ray went to deal with the financial stuff while I helped Tim out with the triage nurse. He was hanging on pretty hard but I could tell the fever was making him fuzzy-brained. Ray wasn't done when Tim and I went back, but they readily agreed to go and get Ray when he was done with the money.

And there we waited. And I know anyone paying any much attention could tell what was going on. Ray and I holding hands, then Tim and I holding hands, then Tim and Ray holding hands, depending on who was where and needed a hand to hold. I fell asleep against Ray at one point. Ray expresses anxiety by hanging onto Tim and telling him he loves him so I know they got a good eyeful of that. And? Not a blink, not a mutter, not an odd look. Everyone who came in quite deliberately addressed all three of us.

The best part, though, was the way the three of us worked as a team throughout the whole situation. It's what we've been trying for, but it's hard. Tim and I are used to working together; Tim and Ray are used to working together. Ray and I are still getting to know each other (though it's going very, very well so far). And integrating the three of us into a whole has had fits and starts, great leaps forward and a few backward. It's slowly getting better, though. Little by little.

And that's fine. We don't want to rush it; we don't want to rush into anything. I've spent years and years trying to find the right two people to be with and have had it fail terribly every single time before now. I don't want to mess this up; it's got far too much potential to be very, very good.

And Tim? Ibuprofin is keeping the fever under control. He's got a mild case of pneumonia but we caught it early and he's already on drugs. And they gave him a nebulizer treatment for his wheezing.

See, his father has severe emphysema. Can't even visit Tim in Colorado because there simply isn't enough oxygen in the air. Has to do a nebulizer treatment every couple hours or so. Eventually, and probably fairly soon, that emphysema will kill him.

Tim's been trying to quit smoking for years. Hasn't smoked for a couple of days anyway, since he's been so sick. But that nebulizer treatment? Really drove home that if he doesn't do something about it, he's going to be his father. So he's said 'this time, for sure' and I'm going to do what I can to help him stick with that.

I'm at their place now, even though Tim and Ray are both asleep. I don't need to be; Tim's fever is well under control and Ray doesn't seem to be coming down with it. But I just feel better here, where my two men are, blogging and catching up with email, and sneaking into the bedroom every once in a while just to watch them sleep.