we’ll carry on

Welcome to the Black Parade Pity Party!

First is first: my COVID is progressing mildly. I’ve had some instances of Feeling Gross, but for the most part it’s a chest rattle and some l33t light hacking. I’m still infected (extremely and immediately, according to the last two rapid tests), but otherwise fine.

That doesn’t mean I’m not not ENTIRELY MISERABLE, though. My entire week has been a towering inferno of disappointment and salad dressing, the details of which I will now describe in agonizingly inane detail.

So, this COVID thing. I can’t leave the house even more than I usually don’t leave the house, and it’s giving me significant cabin fever. Amongst my COVID angst:

  • Ed’s been home since Wednesday, and we haven’t been able to hug or kiss or make an mockery of procreation. I need hugs! Although tbh I really like the separate bed thing as it turns out I enjoy getting enough sleep.
  • I had plans for tomorrow that included three things I was looking forward to:
    • Hanging out with Shan (Shanging)
    • Breakfast at Deacon’s Corner which is my favourite and it’s been so long and I’ve been ever so good
    • Running around downtown Vancouver on a spectacular spring day, just existing

Side note – missing out on any one of the three items above would have been keenly felt, but all three of them together is just a dick move, universe.

On Monday, I’m missing lunch in Vancouver again (!!) with friends I haven’t seen (in SIXTY YEARS no lie at) my other favourite, Anton’s, to celebrate Shan’s belated birthday. I’m extremely sad to miss this for basically the same reasons as above, except with pasta for daaaaaaays. I’m actually double missing this one: even if I didn’t have COVID, I’m doing an online conference all day Monday. The COVID just makes it extra layer of fun, because Ed probably shouldn’t go either even if he’s negative, just in case.

That’s all bad, right? WELL THERE’S MORE!

  • An interesting development I was courting fell through and it made me sadder than I had anticipated
  • A pair of shoes I ordered are too big and an item was missing from the order (sold out and oops)
  • I’m insanely busy at work and this is the worst possible time I could have picked to get sick, so I’m stressing out about my work not getting done
  • .. and the same time, I’m still working except now I have guilt that I’m not working at my best or quickly enough which Jesus Christ woman pick a neurosis and stay in one fucking lane
  • .. and that whole “stressing and working myself into Scary COVID” thing hovering back there somewhere
  • *ahem* all that to say I was supposed to go to a work retreat thingie the week after next and I was nervous but really kinda excited about it – but because of my covidity AND my workload, I decided it be best if I didn’t go

I think that’s it. All the big ones, anyway. I could probably go on for an hour, but that sounds exhausting.

Basically, I am a very sad duck and I am allowed to be so. Feeling sad is a natural reaction to disappointment, and no one is judging me for my sadness.

*cough*

Anyway, join me next time when I explain how my special flavour of damaged is a paradox and that’s so on brand I could just fucking spit !

the saviour of the broken, the beaten, and the damned

(hi k! i am flirting with you in reference form!)

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