Another fucking five

I just checked and god damn it, this is gonna be another five week month.

And there’s only been one “normal” month since the last one!

I sm so fucking sick of this shit. Now I am kicking myself for spending that last $100 on Amazon orders when it could have (at least partially) covered the extra week.

But no, now I have to re-budget and figure out exactly what I will have to do without in order to make it through the month.

And just when I was finally starting to relax and enjoy life after the previous financial rape via calendar.

Wouldn’t that just frost ya.

I am sure I will figure something out. I am a highly intelligent, resourceful, and adaptable, so I am sure I will make do just fine.

But I should not have to put up with this bullshit. The only sensible thing would be if the province increased the non-shelter portion of our payments by 25 percent when the time between payments increases by 25 percent.

I mean, this ain’t rocket science, folks. More time should mean more money.

But I guess nobody gives a crap about us disabled people if there’s no media around. They can screw us over however they like and there’s not a damned thing we can do about it because we’re just a bunch of cripples.

So of course they don’t care that the people under their purview randomly have to live for five weeks on what usually only covers four.

It makes the accounting easier for them, and they’re the only ones who count. We should be grateful that we get anything at all.

But you have heard all this from me before. And honestly, you will probably hear it all again the next time this shit happens.

It stresses me out and all that stress has to go somewhere.

Me, I use my words.

Otherwise, today’s been OK. Started off bad when both Julian and I completely spaced on the fact that we had Wound Care this morning at 8:45 am and overslept.

I woke up at like 9:20 am, he woke up not long after.

I got him to call to apologize on our behalf, and surprise, they had an opening at 4 pm.

Bitchin’. It’s a plan, man.

We had to arrive a bit early because apparently at that Vancouver Coastal Health facility they lock the doors at 4 pm on weekends.

I’m sure that makes sense to someone.

Anyhoo, we showed up, my nurse (Nicole) let us in, and the usual stuff happened, But in addition to that, we talked about my applying for Assisted Living, which Julian had been kind enough to initiate.

And this was a conversation he wanted to be part of, so he ended up joining us.

So now Julian knows the secrets… of WOUND CARE! Mua ha etc.

Anyhow, my takeaway from that conversation was that I actually do pretty good on my own. I don’t need help with anything but showering, and that is something I was totally going to take care of back when I still thought I had spare money.

I can get a shower chair for like $60-$100. Not this month, though. Sigh.

The only other major life area I can’t do myself is laundry. I need Julian for that. In an emergency, I might be able to find a way to somehow haul my laundry to and from the machines despite needing to use a walker.

I picture a laundry basked perched on the classic Little Red Wagon.

There it is! Hi there little guy.

But I do my own cooking (sorta) and I get dressed and undressed on my own just fine and I manage to make it through the month without setting myself on fire more often than not, so I guess I do OK as long as Julian is around.

Which brings up a very awkward point : a lot of what Assisted Living would do for me is currently being done by Julian, so their role would mostly be to replace him.

And that feels all kinds of wrong.

For one thing, I don’t think he hates doing what he does for me. For another thing, it would absolutely kill me if he thought he’d been replaced because he was not good enough or didn’t do the job well enough.

You do a fantastic job helping me out, dear. I could not ask for better help, because not only do you do a wonderful job, you do so in a patient, attentive, conscientious way that never fails to make me feel comfortable and secure.

So yeah. I don’t think we really need Assisted Living for much.

We will see how it all pans out.

More after the break.


Am I a romantic?

Yes and no.

I’m very sentimental. And if I am in love with someone, they are going to know it because I am quite effusive. I will shower them with affection and romantic words and cuddles and hugs and so on.

God, could I use a good so on.

And I would be almost as affectionate in public, if they don’t mind. I really do want the world to know how much I love this wonderful, amazing, incredible person.

But no matter how affectionate I get, I will never be able to forget the practical details. I am, for better and for worse, fundamentally pragmatic, and I will not be able to relax and be a lovey dovey hug machine until I am sure all the practical details have been taken care of and everything is going to be OK.

The best I could do in terms of…. let’s call it romantic abandon is to fake it by making pragmatic adjustments to my plans on the fly without telling my lover.

Like, “Oh OK, now we’re in a pedicab going God knows where, that means I will have to dip into my supply of local currency to pay the guy, and probably when we get to wherever we’re going as well, and this means the trip to the museum is on hold for now, and that means…. ”

And this could be going on in my head while I am being all passionate and “wild”.

If I could not do that, I might have to bring the whole thing to a screeching halt because if I don’t have things nailed down in my head, however flexibly, I am going to be overwhelmed by cosmic anxiety as my worry-wort nature screams at me that if I don’ know what will happen DOOM MUST ENSUE.

So am I romantic? Sure.

But only once we’ve nailed down our itinerary.

I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.