A festival of hormonal swings
Sep. 25th, 2015 09:08 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sienamysticThings have been a little rocky on the ol' Mystic gyno front, but the problem (dose of Metformin no longer balancing the wonkyness of insulin, result: my body kinda sorta thinks it's on birth control pills and maybe does a little bit of what it thinks is breakthrough bleeding, solution: bump up the Metformin a bit) seems to have done the trick and the circus is about to leave town. However the related mood swings and anxiety that go hand in hand with it all has been in full effect today, leaving me utterly convinced that very specific Bad Things were in the wind and it was only a matter of time before all my sins would be broadcast to the general public. It's basically that Jenny Holzer statement: Forces are aligning quietly and there will be trouble," except maybe more like FORCES ARE ALIGNING NOW AND THEY ARE SPECIFICALLY COMING FOR YOU NOW.
So, you know, good times.
There are things to keep me busy the next week or so until I leave, so hopefully the crazies will leave too. I am part of my institution's Instagram team and have had to sit in on meeting where we all talk about optimizing our visitors and growing our audience and I know it's important but at the same time whatever remnants of cynical Gen-X slacker that remain lodged in my breast act to keep me doing the occasional internalized eyeroll. Because uh muh guh guys. Or something. Facebook quietly chugs along, and I haven't been able to get anyone to let me start a Tumblr and endlessly reblog SoYouWorkAtAMuseum. Although hilariously all of us are resisting taking on Twitter like it's a snake poised to bite us and so the marketing manager, who is a lady in her late fifties or so, has been stuck with it although she keeps trying to hand it off.
It'll be hard to concentrate what with the trip looming. I am itchy. Currently looking at a suitcase and wondering if I want to do a soft bag or this larger roller one and what carryon looks like on international trips, anyway. Except to get from my small city to the next biggest city will require me being on a tiny jet and no way no how will this thing fit on that overhead, so maybe I just need to keep my ambitions small. Or check the bag, which I'd rather not do.
My friend with the Edith-beagle has to work a particularly long day tomorrow so I get some beagle time. We might walk down to campus to see the festivities for Homecoming, which Edith will believe are all designed to bring people within petting range. Edith fervently believes that all people want is to pet a cute little rolypoly beagle and frequently, she's right.
I'm typing this in the basement because Ratchet has been particularly whiny and so I let him frolic with the dustbunnies while I dug around in our storage closet and found the aforementioned suitcase. He's trying to coax me into letting him out onto the back patio again, but I know I can't trust him and also there are still fleas lurking. Time to pick up the cat in one arm and the suitcase in another and hoof it back up the stairs, I think.
So, you know, good times.
There are things to keep me busy the next week or so until I leave, so hopefully the crazies will leave too. I am part of my institution's Instagram team and have had to sit in on meeting where we all talk about optimizing our visitors and growing our audience and I know it's important but at the same time whatever remnants of cynical Gen-X slacker that remain lodged in my breast act to keep me doing the occasional internalized eyeroll. Because uh muh guh guys. Or something. Facebook quietly chugs along, and I haven't been able to get anyone to let me start a Tumblr and endlessly reblog SoYouWorkAtAMuseum. Although hilariously all of us are resisting taking on Twitter like it's a snake poised to bite us and so the marketing manager, who is a lady in her late fifties or so, has been stuck with it although she keeps trying to hand it off.
It'll be hard to concentrate what with the trip looming. I am itchy. Currently looking at a suitcase and wondering if I want to do a soft bag or this larger roller one and what carryon looks like on international trips, anyway. Except to get from my small city to the next biggest city will require me being on a tiny jet and no way no how will this thing fit on that overhead, so maybe I just need to keep my ambitions small. Or check the bag, which I'd rather not do.
My friend with the Edith-beagle has to work a particularly long day tomorrow so I get some beagle time. We might walk down to campus to see the festivities for Homecoming, which Edith will believe are all designed to bring people within petting range. Edith fervently believes that all people want is to pet a cute little rolypoly beagle and frequently, she's right.
I'm typing this in the basement because Ratchet has been particularly whiny and so I let him frolic with the dustbunnies while I dug around in our storage closet and found the aforementioned suitcase. He's trying to coax me into letting him out onto the back patio again, but I know I can't trust him and also there are still fleas lurking. Time to pick up the cat in one arm and the suitcase in another and hoof it back up the stairs, I think.