well, American Thanksgiving anyway. The Boy and I celebrated a rare weekday off for both of us by not going hiking after all and by slow cooking pot roast for our celebratory meal. Instead of Ritual Sacrifice with Pie day we did Not-so-Ritual Sacrifice with Cookies day. The cats took up the family-fighting slack in a surprisingly adorable way (Fitz and Zelda were grappling and Pico ran up and batted at them and then they all sat around looking uncomfortable). I finished watching Jessica Jones, The Boy played some Fallout. We got caught up on The Daily Show and I put ornaments on the Christmas tree. It was nice. Continue reading
so I’m using list format today. Number two has some mild grossness, if you’re sensitive to that feel free to skip to 3 after the first sentence.
So yeah. Yesterday I was Head Non-Skating Official for Free State Roller Derby’s double header. It did not go as badly as I feared, nor did it go as well as I wanted. However, I would say overall it went pretty well. I would also say the problems that did happen were my fault. And that’s okay! (the derby itself went great, btw)
I keep meaning to blog but then I don’t because STUFF TO DO (some of which is totally napping. IT’S IMPORTANT) but really there’s only 2 important things.
- I achieved a PR last week. I have never done this particular feat before: I metrosurfed from Judiciary Square to Union Station without moving my feet at all. (it may sound unimpressive, but trust me, it’s way harder than it sounds)
- I hit a young raccoon on the way home last night and not only was that terribly upsetting, but it effed up my wheel well guard thingy. The Boy employed duct tape and one of my accidentally stolen from Wegmans when I worked there box cutters so I can drive without listening to my wheel grinding away at the plastic. So I’m left feeling like a murderer of cuteness.
Oof, long time between posts. Things have been really busy (lots of medical bills plus slightly less working due to illness and tons of doctor’s appointments and PT means dreaming about bouncing checks at the grocery store and not having time to blog) Recovery proceeds apace.
There are a lot of rules when you’re in a mental hospital. They’re designed to keep everyone safe. Which makes sense because that’s sort of the point of a mental hospital. The hospital I was staying at doesn’t have adults separated out into “acute” and “non-acute,” though, so some of the rules seem extreme and sometimes they don’t seem extreme enough.
Psychiatric hospitals are really boring. When the EMTs wheeled me in they stuck me in an assessment office with doors that lock regardless of what side of them you’re on. I fiddled with my phone, emailing my boss to let him know I didn’t know when I’d be back at work and why, and updating my FB page with a photo of my ER ID bracelets and letting my FB friends know I was going to be in a psychiatric hospital.