Go home, August, you're drunk
Instead of repeating the same thing in reply to comments, I thought I'd just post an actual update.
August has sucked so far. It all started with the camping trip from hell, during which I got a flat tire, my dog chewed open a tumor on his toe, my parents' camper wouldn't pop up, and unbeknownst to me at the time, new medication I was on was not working, so I was feeling yucky for no reason I could fathom.
Upon returning to civilization, I had to take the dog to the vet about that bleeding sore, which meant surgery, to the tune of hundreds of dollars. I had to use up my last two days of unreserved vacation for the year to stay home and take care of him afterwards, during which time I noticed he was peeing blood. Back to the vet we went, which meant MORE tests, and more hundreds of dollars. [He has doggy insurance, but the last claim I submitted got lost in the ether so I'm not counting unhatched poultry.]
Long story short, the dog is doing a lot better. He never lost his spark. And the tumor was benign.
I went back to work, and that's when it hit me that my medication wasn't working. I had to switch to the old one, and I'm still waiting for it to seep into my system and work its magic. All the while my dog is still recovering, and the meds he is on make him pee a lot so he wakes me up every couple of hours to go outside.
Colour me exhausted.
I was so tired, I almost didn't go to the Abbey Bar to see Enter the Haggis last night. l'm glad I forced myself out. It was fun, and I think I needed it (and the beer).
I'm working on a secret writing project, details of which won't be revealed here. But I will say that I've decided that I need to focus on one project at a time, so I won't be working on anything else until this is in the can, so to speak.
August has sucked so far. It all started with the camping trip from hell, during which I got a flat tire, my dog chewed open a tumor on his toe, my parents' camper wouldn't pop up, and unbeknownst to me at the time, new medication I was on was not working, so I was feeling yucky for no reason I could fathom.
Upon returning to civilization, I had to take the dog to the vet about that bleeding sore, which meant surgery, to the tune of hundreds of dollars. I had to use up my last two days of unreserved vacation for the year to stay home and take care of him afterwards, during which time I noticed he was peeing blood. Back to the vet we went, which meant MORE tests, and more hundreds of dollars. [He has doggy insurance, but the last claim I submitted got lost in the ether so I'm not counting unhatched poultry.]
Long story short, the dog is doing a lot better. He never lost his spark. And the tumor was benign.
I went back to work, and that's when it hit me that my medication wasn't working. I had to switch to the old one, and I'm still waiting for it to seep into my system and work its magic. All the while my dog is still recovering, and the meds he is on make him pee a lot so he wakes me up every couple of hours to go outside.
Colour me exhausted.
I was so tired, I almost didn't go to the Abbey Bar to see Enter the Haggis last night. l'm glad I forced myself out. It was fun, and I think I needed it (and the beer).
I'm working on a secret writing project, details of which won't be revealed here. But I will say that I've decided that I need to focus on one project at a time, so I won't be working on anything else until this is in the can, so to speak.