I got the title to my car in the mail, so that's that, it is officially paid off and now it's mine.

Weird.

I had to take it in to get it serviced yesterday, and at the dealership, after all the back and forth about what was being done (and don't even get me started, I was supposed to get a recall taken care of and I didn't and I'm still peeved), it came up somehow that is is paid off, and I got a faint look of surprise from the woman behind the counter, perhaps because I do not look like someone who should have been able to pay off a $15k loan in 3 years and change.

In her defense, I suppose, I was wearing my favorite jeans (holes in the pockets and left leg), one of my favorite shirts (HOLES), the sort-of-ugly sneakers I got online because they don't kill my feet when I have to stand on the concrete in the lab, and I had the (broken zipper, but still serviceable) messenger bag with me, my hair swept up in the sort of bun we call "I need to wash this and I'm going to do that tonight but until then perhaps this will hide the worst of the sins".

It makes me laugh when I think about how I am doing, financially (pretty well) vs how I am perceived (as a horrible goblin who must be horribly broke). Clothes get destroyed in the lab even with a lab coat (don't even get me started, truly), and so at some point you give up and there are "lab clothes" and "home clothes". Lab clothes are the ones with mysterious bleach stains. Home clothes haven't been wrecked yet.

I do have some shirts that are "home shirts", in the sense that they don't have anything horribly wrong with them yet. "Home pants" for the summer are shorts, because I cannot wear them in the lab, and "home shoes" are the wedge sandals I have come to be fond of, for the same reason.

I think sometimes about dressing better, making more of an effort, and then it's like — well. I'm comfortable, and reasonably happy; I have outfits that I wear for Fancy Stuff when needed (including, yes, actual formalwear), and anyway, I'm Old and Very Married and Max is also a horrible goblin, so.

(Besides, it's fun to make someone squirm after they're shitty to me for assumptions they made about my class and disposable income based on how I was dressed.)


This week at work was another that's not worth talking about, but the gist of it is that my cofounder realized that if something didn't change I was probably going to walk away, permanently, and so I am on a different project for the time being. Thank God.


I didn't get to bed until almost 2am last night, and I was up until 2:30 with the sort of nebulous, ill-formed anxiety that gnaws at me a few times a year. What if...

Lately it's been what if the people you love are actually tired of you but are too kind to say so, which is certainly — mmm. A THOUGHT.

This was more or less assuaged when Maximo woke up, about an hour after I did (because despite falling asleep around 2:30AM, I was still awake by 8:30AM), and immediately rolled over to show me something silly he'd meant to share before he fell asleep the night before. At least one person loves me and is not tired of me, and that's enough to pop the anxiety bubble, mostly.

His mom called around 9:30 to talk about logistics. She and his sister are planning to come out for the first part of August — probably the 7th (arriving that evening) through the 12th. This should be fun, minus the part where I have two tabletop games I would rather not move in that same span of time. Alas, alack, etc, etc.

(It'll be fine; this trip is short-notice and I don't think I'm expected to entertain anyone or do anything at all.)

After he got off the phone, got up, went to the farm stand (for fun, mostly), then did annoying Car Stuff (getting gas, etc), ran to the grocery store...

It was a bunch of tiny fiddly errands, most of which were fine, but which all together were a lot. The Nebulous Anxiety started coming back around that time, too, which was just — eugh.

Came home, put everything away, and laid down on the sofa for about an hour. During that time, Max's cat came and loafed upon me and drooled, purring. It's hard to feel like you are full of nebulous anxiety when you have a large fat white cat drooling upon you, so.

Got up, did some various and sundry small things, and — well, yeah.

Texted Amanda and Sharon, asked if they wanted to hang out. Got the affirmative, went ahead and picked up Chinese and drove to meet them. Two episodes of DS9, one episode of Game Changer, and that was that. I did get ribbed a bit about "being on the phone" during DS9, but I am —

I can say this here, because neither of them pay attention to my Dreamwidth (genuinely, I don't know that they know I have one), but: God, I am so tired of "Star Trek".

I pay enough attention to the plots, anyway, that when I inevitably get asked if I saw [x], I can go, "yes, and then [y] happened", and that's enough. If they want perfect, flawless engagement, they're going to have to pick something else. :P

(I have pointed this out; Sharon is mildly bothered, I think, because DS9 was her pick and she loves it and wants me to love it too, and I am just — I have seen most of it and I know I am not the target audience, and rewatching it is a bit like, "welp.")

Anyway, the night ended on a high note, me banging on my chest and declaring wholeheartedly how much I love [CHARACTER] from [PODCAST], he is One Of My Blorbos Okay, and people laughing because I do not usually talk about fandom — or at least, when I do talk about it, it's pretty — not that? Sedate, maybe, is the better way to put it.

(I'm excited to talk to them about this, something that I think also came as a surprise to them both, but oh, well, I contain multitudes? Ha.)


I posted fic to AO3 for the first time ever! Well, not counting the thing that got auto-picked up when another archive shut down and shared there.

It's origfic, the weird iddy thing I've been working on. I am not...not-proud of it? Just. Ha. It's difficult to go, oh yes I should share this with people when I'm also like, "right, so, how cool are all of us with [long list of topics goes here]?"

At any rate!

I got one (1) comment tonight. I was like, "dang, already?" (because I mean...) —

It was spam.

Apparently the same scams I get in my work inbox re: "you've been selected for [imaginary magazine that's supposedly about Inspiring Women Leaders]" have hit AO3. I thought I had comment moderation turned on, but evidently not, so I got the blandest — well, yeah.

The richness and creativity of your story genuinely stand out — it holds exceptional promise as a comic. As a paid illustrator specializing in narrative art, I work on commission and would love to collaborate if you’re ever interested in visualizing your work. You can connect with me via Discord at [REDACTED BECAUSE FUCK 'EM]

On the one hand, deep sigh, this sort of stuff is insidious and there are probably people who do genuinely message them going, "oh my gosh, yes, draw my thing!" — but on the other hand...

The first chapter has a very graphic "we have to fake consummating our marriage" scene.

The second chapter of this work immediately hits on some pretty intense kink.

So, you know. Holds exceptional promise as a comic — uh...huh. Sure. :)

I deleted it and turned comment moderation on. Am now laughing because, well. That would be my luck, wouldn't it, with how this week has gone.

This week at work was not worth talking about.

Yesterday, I got into my car after I got off-shift, sat down in the driver's seat, and just bawled for a solid five minutes. Sitting in the fab parking lot, crying like a little kid that just dropped their ice cream. Stress release, I guess?

Anyway.

That's the most you're going to get about that, suppose.

(It's not worth talking about — a lot of "things aren't working because of factors that are beyond my control" combined with "but people think it should be under my control", and that's just a fucking miserable place to be. Eventually it will either be determined that there is fuck-all I can do to make e.g. certain shit work, because God Themself could not do it, or I will leave to "run an errand" and simply never come back. Both are acceptable at this point.)


My car is apparently paid off? I know because I got a call today from the bank asking where they could send the title to. The address they had on file was evidently incorrect.

(I bought it in late November 2021, so when we were still living in the duplex in the north of town, oops.)

I gave them the address, the title guy went, "congratulations!", and...that was that, I guess? I am now the full owner of a '22 Hyundai Elantra SE. Of course, with the job stuff, my brain immediately goes to, "so if you need to, you can sell it and that's a few months' worth of mortgage payments!" — but, you know. (Truly, things would have to be very dire for a period of roughly TWO YEARS before I had to go, "ACK" and think about e.g. selling the car, but lizard brain does what lizard brain does, I suppose.)

This does mean I'm out of debt save for the mortgage, which is a nice feeling, I guess? (Well, and the balance currently on my credit card — I put everything on it, so therapy, groceries, all the utility bills for the house, etc — it's at about $1100 right now — but I also pay it off at the end of each month because fuck paying interest.)

It occurs to me that with the car paid off my expenses for living pretty "extravagantly" (getting takeout like 1x/week, buying myself coffee on Fridays and Sundays, purchasing 1-2 ebooks per month) are back down to ~$2000/month, with two thirds of that being my half of the mortgage and bills.

Weird.


Today at work was fine. I was alone in the lab, which was great. Got coffee (FRIDAY RITUAL), came in around 9, worked on only what I wanted to work on. Actually managed to get something maybe working? which was a surprise to me, but oh, well.

Week ended on a high note. Did some metrology and data analysis, uploaded everything, drove home. At the house Max let me know that he'd ordered pizza from the new place that just opened literally two blocks away from us, and when I said, "so...we're sticking with the plan I made last week?" (to eat pizza from there and watch "Sinners"), nodded.

Said that we ought to pick up the stuff to do Aperol spritzes, so we did (we didn't have soda water! we usually do! somehow that was the only thing we were missing!), grabbed the pizza, came back, fed the cats, and —

Okay, so apparently he did not know anything about "Sinners". I filled him in on what little I knew (vampires, 1930s Mississippi, Michael B. Jordan plays a pair of twins), and we watched it.

No spoilers, but y'all, it was wonderful.

I think I can best sum it up with the following exchange:

MAX: You know, I really liked [STYLISTIC CHOICE], but I found [SPECIFIC PART] anachronistic. Like, damn, they almost had it.

five minutes later...

ME: So do you understand why they included [SPECIFIC PART]?

MAX, completely and utterly stunned: I take that back, I should have let him cook.

(I love the reviews going, "this felt like two different movies to me", like — it was clear as fucking day what the story was and how it tied together, and if you paid even a millisecond of attention, you got it. It's a movie that rewards careful watching, for sure. LOVED the midcredits scene, too ♥ )


Tomorrow we are going WINE TASTING with my LOCAL QUEER FRIENDS, which is A THING, but I get to WALK TO THIS ONE, so if I get WINE DRUNK at 4pm, it'll be FINE.

Probably. :)


As a final note I suppose I should say, the work-in-progress noted as point 1 of this entry has been split into three parts.

Part 1 ended (without any editing!) at 131710 words.

Part 2 is at the midpoint (roughly), and sitting at 65059 words.

Apparently all it take for me to write like there's no tomorrow is for someone to go, "what about...", at which point I will go, "OH YEAH" and write literally 100k words in a month.

Well then.

(Are they good words? I mean, it's a rough draft and it's being written incredibly fast, so it has all the plot and structure of hot wet jello, as my mentor liked to say when I was in graduate school, but I'm having fun and the sole person reading it is also enjoying it, so.)