If the words won’t come, make the characters.

the secret to a successful nanowrimo is porn. lots of it.

As I’ve said before, I’ve never been the type of person who creates an outline and a plot.

I’ve been plotting like a madwoman. Pages and pages of plot bunnies. It’s insane.

Who knew writing a hockey au would actually be enjoyable?

We all know my history with hockey and how the last experience absolutely fucking broke me. (Still broken after all these years, thanks. Vegas put a nice band-aid on my boo-boo, though.)

So… it’s been weird to actually dig into things like the NHL’s Collective Bargaining Agreement and the Rule Book.

To remember things I thought I’d forgotten.

A skate blade to the back, the severed pinky, the slapshot to the nuts (the player was NOT wearing a cup… but that’s a story for another day.), the singing on the bus, Cooperstown, the dentist fixing a broken nose, the Stanley Cup, the octopus… that fucking mascot.

Reading all these stupid hockey romances has reminded me what it’s like to be part of the team, not part of the back office.

And THAT is where my love of the sport truly lives.

In the camaraderie of the players. Not the knowledge of how to write the Salary Cap journal entries.

I almost watched a Bruins game the other night.

Almost.

But before I could change the channel, I had a panic attack and decided it was safer to watch Simmers on YouTube.

I’ll get back to being able to watch the games and probably sooner rather than later.

But in the meantime, I’ve noticed some other things that are changing.

- The hubby took care of Guinness, not me. And G wasn’t a cuddle pup. He was sort of detached, aloof. I take care of the kittens and they are not like that at all. Sophie is still ridiculously skittish, but holy shit. When she wants love, she will NOT be denied. I need Sophie lovin’ more than I would have thought possible. Finn’s, too, although he’s grown way more independent.

- I’ve been listening to Bowie and the Stones. A LOT. I’ve struggled with their music in the past because they remind me of people who ripped me apart and then stomped on the pieces. Somehow, I’ve managed to get past that. Although, I do not recommend singing Star Star at work because it is very NSFW... whoops.

OH! Fun fact: R.E.M.‘s “Star Me Kitten” is named Star Me Kitten because of “Star Star”. Another fun fact: It is one of the very few R.E.M. songs that uses the word fuck.

- I’ve also been listening to a playlist I call BLG. BLG are the initials of the one, the only, Soulmate Boy and it’s all music I associate with him. Some of it is great for running and, I don’t know, kind of… comforting? Yeah, that’s the word I keep coming back to.

- I’m becoming less afraid to go places on my own. This became a HUGE issue after moving to Florida and then having the whole pandemic thing happen. I certainly don’t have the kind of life I had in New England, and I fucking miss it, but I’m trying to make a life here. Finally.

 

- - - - - - - - - -

And for something completely unrelated, I finally got my two breathing tests done AND scored a follow-up with the pulmonologist before Wine and Dine. (I couldn’t get an appointment with the doc until DECEMBER. I lucked out when there was a cancellation for next week.)

I failed. Miserably.

So, exercise-induced asthma is real and not in my head.

That actually makes me feel better.

I have an inhaler, but it’s not working for me. The therapist who did the test thinks I’ll respond better to steroids, but didn’t go into more details. Google’s not telling me much, so I’m excited to have the follow up so soon. Nothing new on race day… except asthma meds. Should be an interesting weekend.

 

- - - - - - - - - -

I also saw Антитіла on Wednesday.

So. Fucking. AMAZING.

It was everything I wanted and more. I had chills and tears. The first and only time I ever got emotional at a concert was Paul Simon, so that should tell you something.

I really hope I get to see them again.

KALUSH is up next and then, in February, it’s SKOFKA… who I only know because of the collabs with KALUSH.

I’m trying to see as many Ukrainian shows as possible so, even if I’m lukewarm on the artist, I’ll go.

I get to support Ukrainians and experience live music. It’s a win-win, even though I hate the fact that they’re on tour fundraising for shit like first aid supplies.

And on that note, I need to go research some more hockey things. November 1st is coming way too fast.

I guess I’m doing something right

I hit ‘maybe running isn’t for me’ at the same time normal runners are hitting ‘I’m ready for this’

Still working through reading some of the short stories and discarded longer works I’m unearthing as part of the LONGEST CLEANING / REORGANIZING PROJECT IN THE HISTORY OF THE FUCKING WORLD.

I found two writing assignments graded by very different teachers, written at very different points in my life.

I think this is a good thing:
I credit (extra) you for this story! I find it hard “grading” a story!

Did you mean KC to be selfish? I got that impression. When she confesses to Jeff and tells the truth, her response turned me off.  He didn’t deserve it! And her shortness at the end to the teacher - nasty -

Did you intend to create a nasty, selfish, young girl?

The situation seems to be overblown. Much ado about nothing -

Was this intended to create a mountain out of a molehill???

Lots of questions!

I’m not sure about answer!

I am fucking DYING at the ‘he didn’t deserve it’! Like, fuck, dude, you got into that shit.

Isn’t that the whole point of being a writer? To make people feel things?

And, no, I didn’t mean KC to be so nasty, but it was written in 1990.

My dad and I had moved out of the house I grew up in and were living in an apartment. 1990 to 1992 could be called my ‘angsty’ period, at a minimum.

So, if KC was a Mary Sue (let’s be serious: she totally fucking was), it’s a pretty good indication of just how fucked up I was at that point.

On the flip side, on a junior high school writing assignment, I got this:
Wendell -

This is exceptionally good! It’s subtle and sensitive - I’m impressed! (A+)

Junior high was a very different world compared to high school. I can’t say Junior High was perfect - there were a shit ton of problems at home. I’m pretty sure that this is when the depression started showing its face to the world,too. I started going days without sleeping and I was never happy. NEVER. I faked it well enough, but looking at that young girl… knowing what she was up against and what her future would hold. God, I just want to put her somewhere safe and protect her.

Story #1 was supposed to be a little bit of a meet-cute, boy meets girl thing. Of course, obviously, it didn’t go well.

Story #2 was about a girl who had grown apart from the popular girls she had been friends with and reconnected with a less popular, forgotten friend.

I never lived story #1, but what person doesn’t want the opportunity to hang out with their crush? Fuck, I couldn’t write the romantic scenes for shit. (And now I write porn. Who needs romance when you have a dick? (Or a sex toy. My porn is equal opportunity.))

Sorry. Not porn. Erotica.

Speaking of Mary Sues, my little het fic is definitely including bits of my past.

The bad ones.

Write what you know, right?

Fuck.

I almost wrote Right what you know, write?

Englishing good is hard work.

But, anyway, that one is a meet-cute, boy meets girl thing. About a girl who loses all her friends.

Stickin’ to what I know.

Obviously.

- - - - - - - - -

I gave up on watching horror movies while I play The Sims. I’ve seen all the ones I’m interested in on Tubi, and none of the other streaming services have anything that I haven’t seen. (Give me a good found-footage haunted house/paranormal TV show movie any day.)

So, I decided to watch Bio-Dome.

BIO-FUCKING-DOME.

Yeah. I don’t know what I was thinking, either.

But there’s a song in there that is on the Threesome soundtrack. (Also a Stephen Baldwin film where he’s a complete idiot.)

I LOVED Threesome.

So, last night, I found an external blu-ray disc player, attached it to the Mac, and had a completely enjoyable trip down memory lane. And those don’t happen very often around these parts.

You can’t buy the soundtrack, though.

You also can’t buy the soundtrack for “Pump Up the Volume” which will probably make an appearance today.

I was able to find all the PUtV songs on iTunes, which was great, but it would have been SO MUCH EASIER to just buy the soundtrack. (Licensing, smishening.)

Unfortunately, a chunk of songs from Threesome’s soundtrack are near impossible to find. I still have some options I need to look at, but I’m not holding out hope that I’ll find digital copies.

I do, however, have an old school tape deck and a Mac it connects to.

I see myself dusting off both and doing some digitizing myself.

Worst case, I hook the old Mac up again and use it as an oversized iPod.

- - - - - - - - - -

I decided to do Dopey virtually this year. That way, I can go at my own pace and not worry about the asthma, or blisters, or whatever else will raise its ugly face.

I am doing Wine and Dine in Orlando, though. Yesterday, I decided to get serious about my training. I had been on a streak, then G died, and.. I lost my treadmill buddy. It’s been hard to get on the treadmill and not having him laying in the doorway, protecting me.

I walked the first and last miles of a 5K. That second mile? I did walk / run intervals - I’ve always played with them in the past, but… eh.

Last night? Last night was my best mile since 2019.

Completely sustainable over a mile.

I’m going to hop on the treadmill again tonight, I think, and try again. Maybe I’ll nudge up the running speed. Maybe I’ll set my Garmin to measure laps. (Which is a pain in the ass, but whatever.)

Don’t know.

But I’m kind of excited to see what happens.

Ти знайеш хто я???

Battle not with monsters, lest ye become a monster, and if you gaze into the abyss, the abyss gazes also into you. - Nietzsche

I battle with monsters all. the. fucking. time.

Guess that explains a lot.

- - - - - - - - - -

So. That void kitty up there is Finn. He was supposed to be named Phineas after one of the characters in A Separate Peace by John Knowles. It’s one of my favourite books and one I don’t revisit nearly enough.

But. Somewhere along the line, he became a Finnegan.

I’m his person and I can’t tell you how healing that little asshole is. He’s amazing.

We also adopted another kitten, Sophie.

She’s not a void kitty. She’s actually white with some gray tabby colouring.

So. Night and day. Literally.

Even in their personalities… where he’s a total and complete extroverted asshole, she’s a shy lovebug.

I’m not sure why she’s so skittish still, but it is what it is. But like Apache, when she wants loving from you, she will NOT be denied.

I am also her person… when she lets me be.

They have made me indescribably happy. Maybe not enough to keep the worst of the depression away, but it’s something.

- - - - - - - - - -

Let’s see… what’s happened since Memorial Day-ish? Besides bringing home a little ray of sunshine and an asshole?

My email account either got spoofed or hacked… I’m not quite sure. All I know for sure is that I was getting like 100 bounce backs a day. Apparently, I have control of your computer and if you don’t pay me in a bazillion bitcoins, I’ll share that naughty stuff on your hard drive with the world.

To be completely honest, I have no idea what a bitcoin actually is and I can’t be bothered to find out why I would want some.

I went to my webhost and, instead of taking any action, they told me it was MY fault and then directed me to a bunch of knowledge base articles. Not a single bit of customer service to be found… I decided to take my business elsewhere.

Not a spur of the moment decision even though it looks like it. I’ve been having problems with them on and off for years, but I was too lazy to do anything about it.

So.

Last year, I hosted a test blog on HostGator, using WordPress. (insert vomiting emoji here…) I liked HG, hated WP, but decided to cancel the hosting after the one year term was up.

I decided to go back to HostGator and transfer my entire digital life to them. This blog and 7 domains.

Well, the domain transfers went relatively well until they didn’t.

Apparently, I hit some limit with the domain transfers, triggered some fraud alert, and they locked me out of my entire account.

Even better, the email that told me why wound up in spam. If I hadn’t been exporting important email messages, I would have never known.

I went through this whole thing with them:

How am I supposed to prove the domains are mine? No, I’m not sending you copies of my bank statements or my drivers license via an unsecured email… and we were at a stalemate. Finally, I sent them screen grabs of the bank’s app.

Still couldn’t get in.

Talked to support and showed them what I had sent. They told me they needed a PDF. Of a bunch of pictures. But whatever.

I showed it to the person I was chatting with and they told me it was OK so I sent it off.

Still locked out.

Chatted Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday… all of them telling me that my information was still being reviewed and they would “escalate it”.

We’re at two weeks now. TWO WEEKS.

Finally, the person I talked to on Thursday told me the ticket had been closed. ON SATURDAY. The day I was told what I was submitting was OK.

I gave up and sent them a copy of my bank statement. Completely redacted except for three lines. (So really, what was the point? I could have faked the document by that point.)

And I finally got access to my shit again.

Just so I could transfer it to yet another web host.

After being with NameCheap for a billion years, I moved GA twice in the space of a few weeks. And the two email accounts I was keeping.

I do not recommend doing that.

So… I’m off of work today taking a much needed mental health day and decided to post this entry.

The website, this blog, my fucking baby, broke.

Borked beyond belief.

The guy at A2 was super helpful and told me I was his favourite support call because I was having a good time.

What else could I do? If I don’t laugh about this nightmare at this point, I’m just going to cry.

And honestly? I’ve been doing a lot of that lately and I am OVER IT.

- - - - - - - - - -

Hmm… what else happened?

VEGAS WON THE STANLEY CUP!
(doo dah doo dah)
VIN AND DOUG CAN KISS MY BUTT!
(oh the doo dah day)

This is especially heartwarming because the Cats made it into the finals for the first time in franchise history.

They also lost a really good player in the Vegas expansion draft because they wanted to trade away a shitty one… and I’m pretty sure at least one of those names will be engraved on Lord Stanley’s Cup.

As I told several people, the Cats shit all over my dreams. I really hoped Vegas would shit all over theirs.

I think at this point, I have earned the right to be that vindictive because I have been dealing with the emotional upheaval that team caused me for years now.

I’ve actually debated posting part of my termination notice and I’m still on the fence about that. (WHAT? THERE’S SOMETHING I WON’T TALK ABOUT?!?! Dude, I talk about dicks, I’ve written about my struggles keeping two of my fan fic characters from engaging in statutory rape, I’ve written - ad nauseum - about my mental health. Yeah. Not a lot of boundaries here…)

But anyway, the part that (still) kills me - the part I absolutely CANNOT get over - is where they said that there was a possibility that I would never get better and they couldn’t keep my position open for an undetermined length of time.

I’m fucking bipolar.

I was diagnosed when I was 26 - right after my father died.

I’ve been under a doctor’s care in one way, shape, or form due to that since then. So, I was what? 43 when they shitcanned me.

43 multiplied by the square root of cheese, divided by pi equals… hold on. I need to write a ridiculous excel formula to do that math.

Where was I?

Oh yeah… I’VE KNOWN ABOUT THE BIPOLAR AND HAVE BEEN UNDER TREATMENT FOR SEVENTEEN YEARS.

Seventeen.

Seventeen years of therapy on and off.

Seventeen years of altering my internal chemistry to adjust for the fact that my body cannot produce what it needs for me to be a fully functioning human.

Seventeen years of pretending to be a fully functioning human and (mostly) succeeding.

But. You know. I might never get better.

Like I have any control over my broken brain.

I’m about as good as I’m ever going to get… and that’s the part that I can’t shake.

So yeah…

THANK YOU, LAS VEGAS GOLDEN KNIGHTS!

 

Про Грінча який украв Різдво

I meant to post this entry yesterday. Whoops.

Oh, for fuck’s sake.

There’s a key on the MacBook’s keyboard that lets me switch between the keyboards for different languages… I’ve got a switching shortcut programmed for my bluetooth keyboard, but I always manage to go from italics to Ukrainian when I don’t mean to. Since I’ve changed my computer usage and mainly work glued to two monitors, I can get rid of the shortcut and just press the button on the Mac.

ЦРН вшв ерфе ефлу ищ дщтп ещ аштв? Um, WHY did that take so long to find?

Exactly.

 

- - - - - - - - - -

For Christmas, my husband gave me an early “present”. He’s not going to Marathon Weekend with me.

I had talked about skipping out, true, but in the end, I want to see how far I could go.

I mean, it might be for the best, but…

When he’s around, I feel bad going to the meetups. I missed hanging out with the RTI crew during Wine and Dine because of him. But… it’s like that every time we go somewhere. One of us is always awkward and it is uncomfortable as fuck for the other one. That’s why he didn’t go to Homecoming with me. It’s why I don’t go to Ohio with him.

Also, I’m a complete shit during the Disney races. I’m tired. I’m cranky. I’m a petulant brat.

Also, also, I don’t like going to the Disney parks. They’re overcrowded and I’m just not a Disney fan, but I’m too tired and cranky to go to Universal.

He’s using the excuse that he doesn’t want to go to the parks because they suck.

Which, OK, fair… but when I told him it wasn’t about going to the fucking parks, it was about supporting me, I got an “I know. I’m sorry.”

He’s also paranoid about the dog.

Guinness is getting old and it’s starting to show. His right leg doesn’t really work the way it’s supposed to anymore. He doesn’t freak out when the doorbell rings. He can’t get up on the couch anymore.

And now, he’s starting to lose control of his bowels. He’s taken 4 or 5 craps in my car on the way to day care. This last time, we were at the light right before the parking lot and he got up and… well. Yeah. And then he sat in it. Because it wasn’t enough to crap, he had to rub it into the blanket. You try cleaning out a car with some wet paper towels and then having to drive to work with the windows open and hope that airs it out. (I should really start carrying that special cleaner we bought for this specific purpose.)

Last night, he woke the husband up and didn’t even make it out of the bedroom.

So, Guinness is his other reason… in addition to all that, there’s a distinct change in the dog’s personality after he’s been boarded for several days (not a good one.) And, let’s be honest, the husband doesn’t deal with death well. Which puts me in the awkward position of hoping that the dog has the kindness to kick the bucket once I’m home (assuming that his expiration date is in the next few weeks as the husband seems to believe.) Personally, I think that the dog will live forever because I hate paying for day care and, on a good day, Guinness is nothing if not pure, unadulterated, evil.

I’m afraid to tell him that I had a dream last night where Guinness got hit by a car and died. I also thought at one point this morning that he stopped breathing.

I’m not saying a damn word because it will make everything worse, but I knew when it was time to let go of both Arsey and Apache. I’m not saying it’s his time… I’m just saying I’m on high alert. My dreams aren’t always harbingers, but sometimes they are.

I mean, fuck, I’m nervous, too, but he’s an eleven year old German Shepherd. Our Aussies both made it to thirteen, so I pray he’ll make it to that age.

Even with that all taken into consideration, I’m pissed off, disappointed, and hurt beyond belief that the husband doesn’t want to be there for me.

So… long story short, I’m more miserable than ever. I’m scraping rock bottom and it’s beginning to show.

It also doesn’t help that this is my first year-end at the new job and I have a fuck ton of stuff to do by January 10th (according to the old Controller’s schedule.) I’ll be at Disney from the 4th to the 9th. I have a feeling I’m taking my laptop… since I’ll be alone any way, I don’t feel too bad. BUT… it also makes me want to revert to my original decision of just eating the $600 for the Dopey bib and staying home.

I don’t fucking know any more.

 

- - - - - - - - - -

In happier news, I’m working on making some significant changes in my life. Are they still New Year’s resolutions if I decide to do them before Christmas?

I haven’t really embraced the three words concept for a few years. I’ve just gotten lazy, but I think it’s time to bring them back. (Disclaimer: the three words idea is from my beloved friend CC’s book, “Amazing Things Will Happen”. You should really read it.)

SO.

For this year, my three words are:

PHYSICAL: A little too encompassing, maybe, but all the things that fit under this are related. I want to get past this roadblock with my running. I want to lose weight. I want to finally kick Dopey’s ass in 2024 since it’s a given that it probably won’t happen this year. I want to feel better / get into a shape that isn’t rotund. (Although, I still don’t get anything positive out of running. I want a runner’s high, damnit! I demand the ability to consistently have a runner’s high for Christmas. You hear that, fat man?)

MENTAL: Also a little too broad, but again, when I put together my list of things I wanted to manifest this year, I kept finding things that are related. I want to read more. I want to engage in hobbies I used to love. I want to learn Ukrainian. And Polish.(Apparently, I’m a glutton for punishment. Polish is supposedly a very difficult language to learn.) I want to do the things that make me feel whole and since my brain is my superpower… I want to keep it active. Zoning out to the Sims every night isn’t doing it and I can feel a difference in the way the depression affects me. Sometimes, being as self-aware as I am is a motherfucker.

SOCIAL: I want to make friends. It’s as simple as that. I lost my high school and college friends when I moved to Ohio. I fought hard to get some of them back when we moved to New Hampshire, but some of that was short-lived. Then we moved to Florida and the tenuous grasp I had on any of those friendships continues to lessen as the distance gets in the way. I have two friends in Florida - both from Facebook groups - and neither friendship has really taken off IRL, even though we live relatively close to each other.

And, related to word number three - what the holy fuck have I done?!? I signed up for a learn to play D&D session through the FRC.

ME!

Playing Dungeons & Fucking Dragons.

(I’m laughing my ass off at how that came out, btw.)

I have never been interested in D&D. NEVER.

But.

It’s a way to connect with more people. It’s a way to maybe take some of those random online names and make them friends.

There’s a few more ideas that I’ve had, but signing up for an online learn to play D&D class is a big enough jump for this weekend.

On that note, I’m going to grab my copy of Beginner’s Ukrainian and fight my way through the first chapter.

під лежачий камінь вода не тече

I’m sure johnlock exists because Conan Doyle used ejaculate so much…

I haven’t run or walked since my disastrous finish at the Turkey Trot.

I deferred my entry for a 5K / Half Marathon combo this weekend.

I have the Dopey Challenge in less than a month and I haven’t successfully finished a half marathon since last January.

You can’t fake a marathon, so as long as I get a little further than when I was swept last year, I’ll be happy.

I keep thinking about why I chose to start running.

Why I chose to do Dopey two years in a row, knowing that I wasn’t going to train for it properly.

I don’t know if this is depression or weight gain or… something I can’t put my finger on.

I’m still shocked that I put in all that work with a running coach and didn’t even plateau.

No. I couldn’t do something that actually makes sense.

Instead, I went on a downward spiral so brutal I’m still trying to figure out what went wrong.

And I really doubt it’s a simple as exercise induced asthma, although that’s a great excuse.

 

- - - - - - - - - -

In other news, last Sunday, I had my first nosebleed. (Seriously. Never had one before.)

Monday, I had my second and third.

Tuesday, I had my fourth, my fifth, and my sixth.

Wednesday, I went to Urgent Care looking for a quick fix or a reason. Had my seventh.

Thursday, saw an ENT who found the equivalent of a pimple in my nose and zapped it. Was told more nosebleeds were part of the healing process. (What the actual FUCK?!?!?!?!?!?!)

Friday, had my eighth right as a zoom meeting started. Ninth was so bad I freaked out. Tenth was annoying.

I haven’t had a nosebleed since Friday night, but I’m terrified of it starting again.

That’s part of why I deferred my race entry. I didn’t want to be on a course somewhere, not near a med tent, if it started again. It wasn’t like I could carry a box of Kleenex and a garbage can with me.

 

- - - - - - - - - -

I’m getting a very generous raise effective January first, and a nice Christmas bonus.

Except, since my longevity at jobs is so bad (can I call it shortgevity?), that the owner said it was a bribe to make me stay.

I wanted to tell him that hurt and that he could keep his money…

It’s not like I take jobs planning to leave in a year or two.

Seriously. Why the fuck would I do this myself?

More importantly, with the exception of Global Spectrum, who actually plans on leaving a place every few years? (At Global, it was the norm to look for better positions, at better arenas. Every week, they sent out an internal job posting email, and by the end of the 30 day posting period, most of those jobs were gone. I love the hire from within culture as long as it’s followed through.)

I really like it at most of the jobs I take, but I always end up leaving when something triggers the bipolar, or the politics in the office become unbearable.

For example: I kind of liked my job at an airport, but the owner was spending so much and the books were so bad, that payroll was withheld twice. I can’t work and not get paid.

For example: I liked the health care company I worked at, but there were two bullies who made everyone miserable. I was given a promotion, but no raise, with the entire job description being to keep those two in line. In the end, I guess the joke’s on them. I had been working with the Controller on a super secret project to prepare the financials needed to sell the company. The company was sold and everyone lost their jobs. I would have been one of them if I hadn’t left before that.

For example: I liked the HVAC company I worked for, but I hated the Assistant Controller. She was on a mission to get the CFO fired so she could take his job. When he retired, we were supposed to be co-Controllers, but she started doing some shady shit with the financials to get him out the door. I left for Florida, and she got fired by the Board because they didn’t like her. I still can’t help but wonder if she would have taken me down with her. My gut says yes.

For example: I LOVED my job with the Cats… but that was the third time I had stayed until I couldn’t fight the bipolar any more. We all know how that ended. It was the first time I’d ever been fired for losing control of it. Because I refused to let myself quit. That only confirmed that my pattern was correct… so I stuck to it.

All in all, it makes me wonder if I should give up. We can’t really afford the loss of my salary if I were to go on Disability, and I need to work or I’ll go crazy. (Which is awesome considering it is holding a job that creates issues.)

But.

I guess it’s nice to have that option in my back pocket… even if it’s going to be a battle to qualify.

 

- - - - - - - - - -

And finally, I’ve given up on my Ukrainian lessons for a bit.

I only want to learn from native speakers. From Ukraine.

Of course, Ukraine is still having problems with their electrical grid and rolling blackouts are a thing. I’ve had two classes that needed to be rescheduled because of Putin.

But I know my teacher needs the money more than I do, so I’ve been doing the best I can to work with it.

But for as frustrating as it is for me, I can only imagine what it’s like for her.

The strain of living there is obvious in the lines of her face, the forced way she says ‘good’ when I ask her how she is doing.

Related: I’ve been watching Sims YouTubers who narrate in Ukrainian, and that’s been helping my listening comprehension quite a bit.

So. On that happy note, I’m going to end it right here. Have the best rest of your day and I’ll see you all tomorrow.

Bye, everybody.

(I need to cut back on the lilsimsie videos…)