Club sandwich for breakfast, pizza for lunch. Take that, doc.
I wish I had a more interesting life so there were actually things to report back on (no I don't, I like my boring life just fine right now; there's nothing wrong with boring) but I got nothing. Oh, hey! Wait! So last night I went to pick up the new prescriptions after work and I decided to stop in at a gluten-free bakery I've been eyeing since I moved here.
It's pretty cute and they do breads and scones and pies and cakes and muffins to take-out, plus soup and sandwiches and salads for lunch. Everything is ridiculously priced, of course (three savory sausage scones + one frozen loaf of quinoa + millet + sorghum bread was close to $30), but the people were nice and it seems like it'll be a good place to go for a treat sometimes. (Or to buy bread when I'm lazy and don't want to make my own bread.) I was very excited that they don't use corn products in the majority of their food and they do paleo days and they make egg-free and dairy-free things, too. Basically guilt-free bread.
(My doctor on Monday told me that even though I'd lost a couple pounds since my visit in March, I was still up an amount I'm not proud of from my lowest back in November, and I should really try and get back to "whatever it was you were doing, because it seemed to be working really well for you and every pound you can lose is better for your health." So -- a little shamed, a little taken-aback, and it obviously guilted me into eating healthy again because Tuesday for breakfast I had a giant vanilla milkshake. My body, my health, my menu. I am not giving up the milkshakes. I feel like going shopping for junk food just to spite her. [Coworker E recently asked me if I found spite to be a motivating factor and I replied, 'It's like you know me or something. Oh, and it's not a motivating factor, it's the motivating factor.'] She's not wrong, though, which is the stupid thing and which explains why I am actually going to hit the gluten-free, mostly-paleo diet again; besides that, I do feel better when I eat healthier and it'll be better for me with the meds I'm starting this weekend. Plus, anything I can do to avoid needing to exercise, ugh.)
Anyway. After that stop, I picked up my prescriptions, then I drove home a way I've never been before, scoping out the houses and neighbourhoods and adding to my mental map of Lexington. I made a detour to the post office, picked up my mail and a couple things from Amazon (it's getting to be summer; I needed a new straining cloth for the pitchers of cold-brewed cafe au laits I drink when it's hot), and made it home. I should have tidied up but I went to bed, instead. Fuck it, dad and sis are family, if they wanna judge me for leaving the prescription warnings/instructions on the floor, then fine.
--
Things I have looked up today:
- That one quote about psychotically, irrationally, erotically codependent brothers
- Barrett's The Magus
- A glossary of woodworking terms
- The Ascension of Isaiah and Enoch II
- A map of downtown Kalispell, MT
There seems to be a lot of talking going on and apparently every Sam in every iteration I write just wants to blow Dean. *Shrugs*
Extract from a new Genderfluidity story that I'm convinced will never end:
That night, Sam says, "You've met mine. I think I should meet yours. Maybe yell a little, too; I wouldn't want you to have all the fun."
They're in bed, Shelley stretched out next to Dean, Chloe curled up with Sam, and neither of the dogs reacts when Dean snorts. "There's no reason for you to yell at Benny," Dean says, "promise. But -- only if you're sure, Sam."
"Yeah," she says. "I'm sure. Tell me what he's like? What should I expect?"
Dean smiles, thinks of how much Benny's going to love Sam and wonders if he'll have to scare another person away from her.
Extract from a new CA story that may actually worry formalizing when she reads it:
Shit, Sammy, you know how to get me going.
Know how to help out with that, too, Sam says. He grins at Dean, dark and dirty, lets his eyes go golden and stay that way, meets Dean's black eyes without flinching, licks his lips instead. You got a hunter picked out or are we gonna chase a random one down?
Dean smirks, tangles one hand in Sam's hair as Sam scoots over, starts undoing Dean's jeans. Oh, I got one in mind, sweetheart. And I think you're gonna like it.
Sam's bent over, practically in half, but he glances up at Dean, says, Not as much as you're gonna like this, and closes his mouth around Dean's cock.
It's pretty cute and they do breads and scones and pies and cakes and muffins to take-out, plus soup and sandwiches and salads for lunch. Everything is ridiculously priced, of course (three savory sausage scones + one frozen loaf of quinoa + millet + sorghum bread was close to $30), but the people were nice and it seems like it'll be a good place to go for a treat sometimes. (Or to buy bread when I'm lazy and don't want to make my own bread.) I was very excited that they don't use corn products in the majority of their food and they do paleo days and they make egg-free and dairy-free things, too. Basically guilt-free bread.
(My doctor on Monday told me that even though I'd lost a couple pounds since my visit in March, I was still up an amount I'm not proud of from my lowest back in November, and I should really try and get back to "whatever it was you were doing, because it seemed to be working really well for you and every pound you can lose is better for your health." So -- a little shamed, a little taken-aback, and it obviously guilted me into eating healthy again because Tuesday for breakfast I had a giant vanilla milkshake. My body, my health, my menu. I am not giving up the milkshakes. I feel like going shopping for junk food just to spite her. [Coworker E recently asked me if I found spite to be a motivating factor and I replied, 'It's like you know me or something. Oh, and it's not a motivating factor, it's the motivating factor.'] She's not wrong, though, which is the stupid thing and which explains why I am actually going to hit the gluten-free, mostly-paleo diet again; besides that, I do feel better when I eat healthier and it'll be better for me with the meds I'm starting this weekend. Plus, anything I can do to avoid needing to exercise, ugh.)
Anyway. After that stop, I picked up my prescriptions, then I drove home a way I've never been before, scoping out the houses and neighbourhoods and adding to my mental map of Lexington. I made a detour to the post office, picked up my mail and a couple things from Amazon (it's getting to be summer; I needed a new straining cloth for the pitchers of cold-brewed cafe au laits I drink when it's hot), and made it home. I should have tidied up but I went to bed, instead. Fuck it, dad and sis are family, if they wanna judge me for leaving the prescription warnings/instructions on the floor, then fine.
--
Things I have looked up today:
- That one quote about psychotically, irrationally, erotically codependent brothers
- Barrett's The Magus
- A glossary of woodworking terms
- The Ascension of Isaiah and Enoch II
- A map of downtown Kalispell, MT
There seems to be a lot of talking going on and apparently every Sam in every iteration I write just wants to blow Dean. *Shrugs*
Extract from a new Genderfluidity story that I'm convinced will never end:
That night, Sam says, "You've met mine. I think I should meet yours. Maybe yell a little, too; I wouldn't want you to have all the fun."
They're in bed, Shelley stretched out next to Dean, Chloe curled up with Sam, and neither of the dogs reacts when Dean snorts. "There's no reason for you to yell at Benny," Dean says, "promise. But -- only if you're sure, Sam."
"Yeah," she says. "I'm sure. Tell me what he's like? What should I expect?"
Dean smiles, thinks of how much Benny's going to love Sam and wonders if he'll have to scare another person away from her.
Extract from a new CA story that may actually worry formalizing when she reads it:
Shit, Sammy, you know how to get me going.
Know how to help out with that, too, Sam says. He grins at Dean, dark and dirty, lets his eyes go golden and stay that way, meets Dean's black eyes without flinching, licks his lips instead. You got a hunter picked out or are we gonna chase a random one down?
Dean smirks, tangles one hand in Sam's hair as Sam scoots over, starts undoing Dean's jeans. Oh, I got one in mind, sweetheart. And I think you're gonna like it.
Sam's bent over, practically in half, but he glances up at Dean, says, Not as much as you're gonna like this, and closes his mouth around Dean's cock.