seventhe: (Burger King: In the butt!)

so mike and i are going to pittsburgh this weekend for my brother's birthday. i had a full list of things to get ready for today - get things settled for the catsitter, clean the kitchen, do some laundry so i have something to wear, pack, rig up my bike for the weekend, sort out my medications (this takes about a half hour every week to load them into my "morning" and "evening" weekly pill boxes, ugh) ... there was a lot.

the thing is, i have been tired as actual fuck this week. because i end up overcharging my energy credit card during the week, i usually try to save up and pay it off on weekends, meaning i need lots of sleep, relaxing, and a good amount of alone solo-time. because of the recent messes (previous posts), i haven't had a free weekend to myself since the middle of june. this means not only am i exhausted, and carrying around the static background-noise of someone who hasn't been able to ground herself and clear everything out*, but of course the house is a mess and i am behind on everything.

(*i am also suffering from not having my Vicodin at the moment; those four hours of reduced pain help me clear out the static noise and ground myself like fuck, but because i have to go back to formal pain management (which is a process) i don't even have that tool in the toolbox right now.)

so anyway, i am tired and pretty strung out at the moment, but it's jim's birthday and mary wants us to be a surprise, so we'll be a surprise :)

so last night, i come home tired from the pain-load on my circuits. i take two tramadol and a glass of wine, which i'm sure my liver is mad cool about but it helps shut the pain up when i don't have opiates. i crash on the couch for a bit, with cats, and then slowly start hitting my chores. i make a pact with myself because i'm watching Chopped on tv, so every commercial break i get up and do a thing. this continues on, laundry and litterboxes and drugs, via Chopped and Beat Bobby Flay commercials (look, i love BBF, it's all fancy cooking and trash talk, that's my jam), until the second wind wears off and i get tired. well, i say, i'll get up early in the morning to finish it.

the alarm goes off at 5:00.

  1. i am having a dream where a group of people (no one i know, which is surprising for my dreams) and i are hosting some kind of event luncheon thing with food and wine for fucking Donald Trump and some Republicans, I guess trying to talk some sense into them or come to an accord or argue with them or spy on them or, i don't know, it seems reasonable in the dream. and i'm some kind of power hostess but i'm focusing mainly on the cooking (thanks, fucking Chopped and Beat Bobby Flay), and trying to make points and break up fights while making sure everyone has food?, i mean at one point i fucking leave an argument to go make more fried cornmeal balls (hushpuppies i guess)???? so like: i'm already pretty discombobulated.
  2. i finally manage to get out of bed, after some snooze buttons, at about 6:00
  3. i head downstairs, turn on the keurig, head to the basement. pull the dry laundry out of the dryer and put the wet laundry in the dryer. yes, i went to bed with laundry in the washing machine. it was literally only there for like 5 hours, it didn't smell or anything
  4. i get my coffee and sit down on the floor to fold the laundry but i'm tired as fuck and end up playing out my stamina in FFBE
  5. i fold the laundry, while finishing FFBE/FFRK stamina, with Iggy and Potato helping. this literally hakes maybe an hour? i'm so tired i feel heavy, like i'm moving slowly because everything weighs 500lb, including my thoughts
  6. i finish the laundry and go to get the cats ready. write a note, set out food, fill their dishes, give them wet food breakfast, get everything set
  7. my brain finally processes that i had a dream about catering donald fucking trump, where i made him bruschetta and fucking hushpuppies rather than punching him in the face, maybe with a knife. i spend a good 15 minutes severely disappointed in my subconscious
  8. it's starting to get close to when i should be leaving for work, and i'm starting to unravel a bit here. i go upstairs to pack. weirdly i fucking gained back 9lb in the month of july, i do not know how, so i'm also trying on everything i want to pack to make sure it fits. a lot of random shit just goes in the bag
  9. i spend a half hour sorting out my pills. i have 20 empty pill bottles and at least 2-3 refills of each type, which makes everything more confusing than it should be. i do not know how it happened and my brain really wants to know rather than focus on getting each med in its appropriate pill box. eventually the boxes are full
  10. i scramble to get ready for work, throw some shit on, the jeans are actually still damp but honestly i ignore it bc they stretch out better that way after a wash. hair goes up in a braid, fucks not given
  11. head down to start loading the car. checking my important list on my phone. get jim's gift in the back seat, bike pump in the trunk because once it had a spider on it. look around the garage, and i don't have my bike rack
  12. it must be in fucking mike's garage
  13. i legit spend 20 minutes attempting to cram my goddamn bicycle into the back seat of my fucking honda civic
  14. i mean, maybe if i take the front wheel off
  15. the front wheel isn't coming off, the brakes are in the way
  16. how do i undo brakes
  17. maybe if i wedge it this way
  18. fuck it we're gonna have to stop by on the way out and get my bike
  19. head back in to wash the oil and smudge off of my hands. i am sweaty, and extremely cranky at this point
  20. hands clean, everything else in the car, head out to get in and go to work
  21. the bike rack is hanging from one of my ceiling hooks
  22. someone was helpful and "put it away"
  23. at this point i am decidedly sweaty, cranky, and obscenely late for work. there's a constant stream of "fuck you, fuck this, fucking fuck, fuck this shit, fuck everything" coming out of my mouth like i'm reciting the world's worst rosary
  24. while taking the rack down the straps get caught in my hair and pull half of it out. everything is terrible
  25. the rack is on the fucking car. the bike is on the fucking rack. go wash my hands again.
  26. get into the car. what's on my seat? oh, it's the post it note of my to-do list. let's check it. i forgot to leave the key for the fucking catsitter
  27. fuck you, fuck this, fucking fuck, fuck this shit, fuck everything
  28. the key is safely in a plastic bag in its place
  29. i am stopping at starbucks if it fucking kills me
  30. literally i do not care if i am fired for being late i'm getting a goddamn starbucks

...

  1. get to work. no one is here. half the group is traveling or on vacation, and the other half is off for 9/80 fridays. all my brain can come up with is "9/11" and i sit staring into space for 20 mins trying to figure out what the 9/11 schedule is
  2. it is surreal
  3. i don't know what i'm doing

so now i really just want a nap. and another starbucks

seventhe: Sev plays FFIII. (Oh. Okay.) (Refia: oh. okay.)
The Pen Is Mightier (2422 words) by seventhe, Vrazdova
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Final Fantasy III
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Author Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Relationships: Arc/Alus Restor
Characters: Arc (Final Fantasy III), Alus Restor, Refia (Final Fantasy III)
Additional Tags: Epistolary, Crack Treated Seriously, Sexting Via Mognet, Ostentatious Erotic Love Letters, Aged Up Till It's Not Creepy, Pen15 Club, talkinboutmypenis
Summary:

Arc and Alus exchange letters wherein they attempt to discover the purpose of a mysterious gift from Refia. Things escalate quickly.

seventhe: (Rydia: reversed)
Lots of people have already posted up their "2012 in Review" and "2013 Resolutions" posts yet. Look, I am 7 days late! It is because I'm awesome. Or, it is because I am busy. Either way, I'm going to do mine now. Seven days into January seems a fine time for someone named Seventhe P. Dragomire to post up some summary lists of memories and goals.

2012 was the year when… )

and 2013 will be the year… )Resolutions are hard. And interesting; it's easy to throw out a bunch of things at the beginning of a new calendar year and let that changing number signify a lot of changes, but I still maintain these things could be done whenever somebody feels like they're important. I also feel like doing them in large swathes can be hard: small changes are also good. So I've picked a couple things to try for January. We'll see how I do.

Overall my goal for 2013 is to have more fun. I have a pretty fun life in general, but I also work really hard for it -- I just want to keep on keeping on and be more happy. :D
seventhe: (Cats: I LIKE THEM)
I've successfully returned from 5 drunken days in the wilds of Arkansas and I am happy to report that so far, [personal profile] owlmoose, [personal profile] renay, [personal profile] zachariah, [personal profile] justira, and Phil haven't defriended me yet after seeing what I'm like in person.

Success.

The weekend was actually pretty fucking great. It was awesome to meet everyone, and we had a blast just hanging around and being silly and laughing until our faces hurt. I already can't wait until the next time we can all meet up! SEVCON 2013?



More details to come; I didn't get home until 12:30 last night and didn't get in bed until 1:00 and 6:00am was pretty fricking early. My shoulders feel like they're made out of gravel and my brain is full of glue and I'm going to the plant next week, again so there's quite a lot to take care of here.

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