Prepoceros

Tonight I’m blogging from bed. This is apparently what it takes to get an update out of me these days, so you’ll have to deal. Besides, you can’t stop me; I’ve already locked the door. Though I guess if you had the time machine required to stop me publishing this *after* you read it, you could just get here *before* I locked the door. But clearly you didn’t, so nyah.

Sam is fascinated by the moving text. I didn’t think dogs “got” things on screens, but every time the little worm of words starts crawling across the page he perks up his eyebrows and stares at it. Hee hee, and he follows the cursor when I wiggle it around the screen. Hoo boy, I don’t know which of us is more easily amused.

Don’t think I’ve forgotten about NaBloPoMo, either, just because I only post every other week nowadays. I’ve got stuff planned. I even have a theme this year. It’s not thirty days’ worth of theme, but it’ll take care of 10 days or so. Please don’t get your hopes up, though; I don’t want that kind of responsibility.

I’ve been feeling a bit glum these last few weeks, which is maybe the reason I haven’t been posting much. Or maybe not, hell if I know. I figure I might as well write it out, especially if the alternative is another hour of minesweeping. Frankly, I’m surprised my carpal tunnel has held up as well as it has.

This moroseness feels chemical. I’m not sad *about* anything in particular—I have plenty to be happy about in my life, both long-term and day-to-day—I’m just sad. Not all the time, either, but enough for me to notice the pattern. A few months ago I was unreasonably happy much of the time for no reason, which narrows it down to manic depression or seasonal affective disorder, right?

Joking. Hi, I’m a hypochondriac. Anyway, my mild depression hasn’t affected my daily life much, so I’m okay with it for now. This, too, will pass.* In the meantime, I’ll try to get out in the sun more.

I was thinking earlier today that I haven’t logged on to m-w.com in…weeks? Months? Having confirmed two of my word choices in this post already, I realize that it’s because I haven’t been blogging. Now that I’m solidly back on the Math/Physics track, this is the only writing I do (or don’t do, as the case may be). I don’t read books much any more, either, which is a sad state of affairs. Right now I’m slowly making my way through a book I started in August.

In other news, the intrepid Samson, in a rare moment off his leash out on the patio, bravely sprinted across the courtyard and attacked a dog four times his size. He seemed surprised to find himself dangling by his leg from the bigger dog’s jaws. John ran over and punched the big dog in the mouth (the other owners were there, but their yanking on the leash and yelling had not yet dissuaded their dog from tearing Sam to bits, so something had to be done), and it dropped Sam, who, in a brief moment of lucidity, scampered off and discontinued his attack.

I apologized to the other folks, but they were already leading their dog inside. I feel bad, because a situation that was my fault (Sam shouldn’t have been off his leash, especially since he’s clearly insane) ended with their dog getting punched. I hope it wasn’t hurt. Sam got one small bite wound on his shoulder for his trouble, but it doesn’t seem to bother him and is healing up nicely. We need to work on Sam’s social skills.

In other other news, Larry’s back. He’s been back since about February, actually, but I didn’t bother doing anything about it until a few weeks ago, when he got big enough to occasionally make sleeping uncomfortable. When I told my doctor the lump had come back, he said, “You’ve GOT to be kidding me.” He’s baffled as to what it is, and why it came back after being chopped into sections and dug out of my body. Larry’s a tenacious little fucker, is all I know.

The whole process has been more or less the same as it was last time, with two major differences. One, it’s not the holidays, so the ten or so doctor’s visits and x-ray/MRI/CT scan appointments can each be scheduled a few days in advance, instead of two or three weeks. Two, whereas last time I was 99% sure I had cancer and was going to die, January’s cancer-free pathology reports have brought my current estimation of this probability down to about 50%. Considering that I usually rate my chances of having insidious, organ-devouring cancer at around 20% (see above re: hypochondria) in the absence of reproducible symptoms, this is quite good. (Some people collect stamps, some garden, and I worry. It’s what I do.)

If you’d like to see the new Larry, I’ll definitely make a video documenting his presence and size (half again as big as original-flavor Larry) before my surgery Tuesday morning. I’ll post a link here if I remember.

Sometimes I think that if I posted more often, each post would be shorter, but I don’t know. There are so many post ideas that bump around in my head for a few days and fizzle out when I don’t get around to writing them down that I think I’d manage a pleasantly mind-numbing word count regardless.

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* My grandmother’s favorite adage, according to my mom. First runner-up: “I won’t endanger my figure for *that* [bit of junk food].” It sounds better in Dutch.

Tags: Larry the Lump, NaBloPoMo, Sam, writing

This entry was posted on Friday, October 26th, 2007 at 12:48 am and is filed under Uncategorized. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.