Tag: no rebogs please

With looking back over one post from earlier after it got more notes, I couldn’t help but start thinking some more about how weird time can be.

Not only do I find myself feeling unexpectedly old, with a (totally predictable) shaky grasp on how much time has actually passed? I’m impressed at how much more condensed some events seem now, than they did then.

I mean, it’s coming up on 15 years later this month since we first met in person. (That I registered, at any rate.*) Hard enough to believe that. And I moved in for good like 8 months later. And there he was, basically adopting my crazy-ass family as mentioned earlier, a few months after that.

I mean, we did get to know each other pretty well online, before the idea of my crashing with him for CCDE 2003 even came up. But, in retrospect things did move pretty quickly overall. Good thing that turned out OK, but it feels a tad weird now thinking about it.

Maybe especially with me sitting here going, “damn, is it really better than halfway through 2018 already?!”

* I was surprised when we were putting all the visa paperwork together, that he was sure we had met at an afpmeet** on my first trip to London in late 2002. Granted, I was seriously overloaded and also more than a little drunk to cope by that point–and probably at least 30 people showed up over the course of the meet. Mr. C was definitely one of them. There are photos. I still don’t recall laying eyes on him then, at all. Must have made more of an impression on him–while really really not in top social form 😵

** I had to laugh at his short version for the application: “We met in a pub in London.” 🙄 Technically true, I suppose, but yeah I did request that he add more context before that got turned in to the Home Office.

Over the weekend, Mr. C mentioned that some annual office party was scheduled for Thursday night, and he was planning to just get a hotel room closer to work that night. Fair enough.

This morning, I find out that it’s apparently black tie (and at Royal Albert Hall), when he brings out the garment bag where his equivalent Highland dress lives.

That would be the outfit that he got for our otherwise not at all formal wedding.* In 2004. And I think he may have worn it once or twice since then.

There’s also at least 50 lbs. more Mr. C than in 2004. And I would be amazed if he’s checked the fit in the meantime. Clothes are just not his thing.

I didn’t say anything, because it’s his event, his outfit, and his body to wear it on. But, maybe considering renting something appropriate could have been a wise plan there. If I had known earlier, I might have politely suggested that at least checking the jacket/waistcoat fit in advance was a good idea. But, a bit late the morning of the event.

* He decided totally on his own that he wanted the kilt to get married in. And yes, he is extremely Swedish. Long story I’m still not sure I totally understand, but it seemed to involve his adopting my crazy-ass family. Tartan and all. Anyway, that’s why he even had some formal wear at the ready.

The good news: The last of that aggravating infected eczema garbage finally seems to be almost healed up! *fingers crossed*

The not so great news: One of the last stubborn patches is visibly bringing tattoo ink up with its scabby peeling nonsense!

That one was already not looking so great*, but yeah. I am less than pleased. No idea what that’s going to look like after the skin finishes calming down, but pretty sure it ain’t going to enhance the artwork.

Never expected that to happen, but I guess that’s what we’re doing now ¯_(ツ)_/¯

I’d already considered trying to work the thing into some type of larger cover-up piece, and may still do that at some point. Even more aggravated that my health situation now is really, really not compatible with healing more work. Again, hopefully at some point, but for now I am kinda glad that is smallish and on my leg where it’s easy to cover up.

* That would be after my skin decided to just eat the white ink. I thought a touch-up job was worth a try a few years later, and the artist had never seen anything quite like that before either. He’s good (and experienced) enough that I’m 99% confident he didn’t just foul it up somehow…and it did the same gradual blotchy fadeout number again within maybe a year! By now you couldn’t tell it ever had the white, and it just wasn’t looking great even before this mess. Probably my weirdo immune system again, but hey. Avoid in future.

A pretty good list of points.

But, unless that blogger is secretly Wyeth Ruthven slumming? It’s really not cool to snag someone else’s posts word for word without any sort of credit.

Less unusual than one would hope, of course. But, I recognized that one specifically after hunting down the source to add to a screenshot version of it going around. (See the previous link.)

A slightly shorter version also turned into a Twitter thread, which IIRC blew up more than on FB. Another case of something with enough exposure to get posted as screenshots over here, yet nobody is supposed to notice someone else without the same expertise presenting it as their own take on immigration law? 🤔

I can’t even find one earlier post complaining about one ridiculous thing: fighting falling sleep whenever I mostly lie back with my legs propped up in the bed. Which I should be doing much more often trying to heal something, but not if it means a nap every time 😪

Sitting down for very long is bad enough that way these days, but lean back and get comfortable at all and it’s honestly kind of worrying.

Anyway, reading is a definite no-go. Watching something I’m engaged with is sometimes better for staying conscious, sometimes not so much.

But, I just discovered new depths of ridiculousness with it a little while ago. Caught myself dozing off while trying to go through a dungeon in Skyrim!

Didn’t even want to try anything but sitting totally up last night, but I figured actively playing a game should be enough to keep me awake. Tonight I could tell I really needed to elevate that leg (after not doing so all day), and…not so much. Trying to go out like a light anyway.

Taking a break and fortifying myself with caffeine right now, but yeah I don’t think I’ll try that again tonight.

One example of continuing to agonize over “splurge” purchases from last night, actually, at about the same investment level as those $50 shoes. (If not as obviously useful, though I will still do it with necessities too.)

I had been considering picking up a copy of Skyrim for the Switch for a while, but hadn’t yet. Almost ordered it a couple of times, but stepped back telling myself that the £42 could be better spent on any number of things we actually need.

Last night, I finally said fuck it and went ahead. The immediate partial justification? I needed stuff to treat some unpleasant eczema problem ASAP, which was only available with Prime shipping as an add-on item. (At roughly £3.50, which I tried to put off spending too!) I couldn’t think of other pressing items anyone here needed to bring the total up to at least £20 for shipping purposes. And adding the game would certainly do that 🙄

Still getting intrusive thoughts of doom afterward, of course. But, that mental workaround was enough to get it bought. Ridiculous a workaround as it was.

We can afford a game. My partner doesn’t seem to think twice about buying games. (Or books, or new shoes, or going on trips that he knows he can pay for, or…) Buying myself another Switch instead of just using his wouldn’t pose any huge hardship, for that matter.

Try to tell any of that to Ghost Poverty Brain, though. When I have also been putting off buying basic clothes and shoes.

(In this case, that would also pretty much fall into the “pain management” and “general mental health support” categories. Gaming is a good distraction that I enjoy, with some feeling of accomplishment involved. And I haven’t been able to use the consoles at all for a while now, with the setup not being very accessible for my needs with no obvious easy way to change that. Still feels like a totally frivolous Do Not Need purchase, though.)

I had to get amused again. Not a word for almost 2 weeks–so, now it’s time for more running travel updates than I really want, going by experience 😅

With my great grasp on time, I didn’t even connect that it was today that he was supposed to be heading back. For that little bit more disruption value. But, evidently so.

No, from tags here, I probably haven’t earned the title of Worst Healthcare Tourist Ever, as bad as I have been at accessing actual services.

That may well go to my partner, who has never registered with/seen a doctor or dentist in over 15 years in the UK 🙄

He did actually leave work early one time to go to a walk-in centre, for what turned out to be a weird infection in his elbow joint. That must really have been hurting. This is the same man who tried to convince himself that a cracked tooth must have magically healed itself, BTW.

But, that is his only interaction with the NHS in 15+ years of paying rather a lot of taxes. Bleeding the system dry even more than I have been doing!

(He has his own reasons there, yeah. And it worries me sometimes. At least there was that indication that he might get something checked out if he thinks it could be serious. But, there are reasons he can’t be as much help in medical settings as probably both of us would like.)

The intense and permanent haunting of a land upon which countess horrors have been visited, and that is too large and wild for us to really comprehend is probably the most intense and universal American feeling.

Which really does seem to sum up a common settler experience entirely too well. As illustrated yet again by that thread.

I’ll probably never really understand it, that’s just so far from any way I learned to relate to anything. But, I don’t guess I have to get it.