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back with minor cat damage
Nov. 10th, 2020 12:57 pmFive days no post, but that wasn't because I was in a funk or otherwise felt I had nothing to say. It's because social media, even this here Dreamidth, was freaking me all the way out, so I took a break.
Yes, yay election result. But I'm still too traumatized to let myself feel joy yet until it's well and truly over. I'm so glad I have no Trump trash in my life, not even in the extended family that I'm in contact with. (Maybe I should be grateful to my mom for feuding with her eldest sister. The worst of my relatives are all in the Appalachians, where Mom came from whether she likes it or not.)
I'll say it again: catastrophizing on the internet is an asshole move, no matter what, if anything, is wrong with your head.
On Friday I had a ladies' night in with La Fashionista & C, as we've done every few weeks for a while. C needed somebody to catsit for her. I only live a couple of miles from C, closer than La F, and it's over level ground. I volunteered to ride my bike and take care of her thick-furred and highly assertive kitty, Aldi. What I didn't know was that the keys she gave me were her only set, so I had to hustle over there after dinner and let C into her own apartment last night. There's a lesson in there somewhere for somebody.
Not far from C's is Cafe Racer, which is pretty much the eats and arts venue for Seattle's north end. Or at least it was. It's closed, emptied out of everything, and it contains a box labelled "Cafe Racer Reopening Fund". Goddamn. That's the kind of place that made me fall in love with Seattle. I want it back.
On a related note, C knows the owner of the Blue Moon, which is an even older establishment that, yes, sometimes does arts things. Because of its ownership - there's inheritance involved - C thinks the Blue Moon will probably make it through.
I'm sleeping OK, but super early, like 2100-0400. Adjusting to post-pandemic life will probably involve caffeine abuse for me.
Yes, yay election result. But I'm still too traumatized to let myself feel joy yet until it's well and truly over. I'm so glad I have no Trump trash in my life, not even in the extended family that I'm in contact with. (Maybe I should be grateful to my mom for feuding with her eldest sister. The worst of my relatives are all in the Appalachians, where Mom came from whether she likes it or not.)
I'll say it again: catastrophizing on the internet is an asshole move, no matter what, if anything, is wrong with your head.
On Friday I had a ladies' night in with La Fashionista & C, as we've done every few weeks for a while. C needed somebody to catsit for her. I only live a couple of miles from C, closer than La F, and it's over level ground. I volunteered to ride my bike and take care of her thick-furred and highly assertive kitty, Aldi. What I didn't know was that the keys she gave me were her only set, so I had to hustle over there after dinner and let C into her own apartment last night. There's a lesson in there somewhere for somebody.
Not far from C's is Cafe Racer, which is pretty much the eats and arts venue for Seattle's north end. Or at least it was. It's closed, emptied out of everything, and it contains a box labelled "Cafe Racer Reopening Fund". Goddamn. That's the kind of place that made me fall in love with Seattle. I want it back.
On a related note, C knows the owner of the Blue Moon, which is an even older establishment that, yes, sometimes does arts things. Because of its ownership - there's inheritance involved - C thinks the Blue Moon will probably make it through.
I'm sleeping OK, but super early, like 2100-0400. Adjusting to post-pandemic life will probably involve caffeine abuse for me.
