30: Uncurious Animals

To start with, yes there was a post #29 but it was that rare entry that was so dire I didn't even publish it,  (consider the implications of that!) holding it back until, I don't know, some kind of statute of limitations expires.

It's been an eventful, noteworthy few weeks, not always for the right reasons but sometimes. Yesterday was particularly ignominious. Really, it started Saturday night when I was getting home from picking up some dinner after a day of idly lounging around. My phone slipped out of my hand as I was getting to the door and fell face down. No matter, I thought, happens all the time, and we proceeded to have a nice evening eating Kelsey's takeout and watching a documentary about the BTK Killer (as couples do.) Then later, as we turned to a more lighthearted reality show ("Are You The First," a dating show for virgins) and I went to idly look at my phone, as one does, I discovered the touchscreen had become more or less borked.

This was annoying to say the least. Being without a phone -- unwillingly -- in 2025 is something like having a limb removed. You just feel incomplete, cut off from an appendage you, if not immediately require, may soon need. I made plans to find a place to repair it the next day, but things went awry. Because I know this blog -- as much as it's public record -- is little-read, I can tell you that Mel had a kind of panic attack (rare lately but not unheard of) and it was my duty to look after her. Fine, but not unproblematic. I can't be mad at her, obviously, but I can dislike the situation, both for how it affects her and how it affects me. If it had happened the day before it would be no problem at all.

I'm hapless enough -- the ultimate cause of my own misery -- without random events beyond anyone's control coming in to screw things up. Also, unrelated, the coffee maker -- at least its single cup function -- has decided to stop working, about 6 years in. Something to look into.

As of right now I still haven't gotten my phone fixed but I plan to imminently.

Last weekend was Thanksgiving, and it was... trying. Mel and I have had a few conflicts in recent weeks, far more than usual, the recurring theme seeming to be my own lack of mindfulness. My brain isn't always braining. I don't want to tell you exactly what happened, only that it was a truly bizarre incident that took on a self-sustaining life of its own as we were out the door, and led to a pretty frosty dynamic between the two of us all through the holiday. I'm not sure if anyone noticed (although I was beyond caring if anyone did notice I was distant and sulking) but there was a lot of to-do about the babies, and some about Hank, to distract everyone. So that was a real shame and put a damper on the day but we patched things up in the driveway on our way out the door, embracing and whispering apologies and words of love. It was good and for the most part the end of our problems, minus one or two flaps of various sizes later in the week.

One thing that had been a matter of some concern had been our plan to go on an overnight spa trip, as we had the previous few years. We had planned this months ago and even booked Mel's vacation accordingly. Somehow in all that time, with our minds on other things, we never got around to booking it, which caused a great deal of friction the week before the vacation was to occur. After a bit of sturm und drang, we did end up booking a spa day locally, at the very posh Pearle hotel in our very own Burlington. It ended up being a very nice time, marred only by a slight parking debacle that saw I thwarted in our attempts to part in a familiar lot (construction) or the next one (technological difficulties) before finally accidentally paying thrice for the place I did park, which is something that not wrongly (but also not un-hurtfully) got Mel rolling her eyes at me again. With me not drawing an income at the moment it was probably smarter not to make a whole overnight trip out of it (not that I have said this out loud.) My RMT ended up being a male, which was not my preference but was a fine experience and a quality massage (I dealt with the intimacy the way I deal with all forms of sensory input I might find in some way objectionable -- by reciting, over and over, the names of all of R.E.M.'s albums in chronological order, resetting when my concentration gets broken.)

After the massage we treated ourselves to some pita and dip (not hummus as it was made from white beans rather than chickpeas). Then we went to dinner at the Keg, where we had a very helpful waiter who assisted us in getting a slice of Billy Miner pie home before it melted.

That was a good day, as was time spent working on Hank's Halloween costume, finally at least making progress on it after months of idleness. We've been grappling with paperwork and bureaucracy relating to both the surrogacy and our mortgage which is up for renewal and needs refinancing.

I spent a lot of the week in thrall to possible moneymaking apps. I'm realizing what should have been apparent from the beginning, that they're worthless falsehoods, cons, ringtoss games. But hope springs eternal.

Hank has been weird lately. After walking him first thing in the morning he gets extremely hyper around 11 or so for a second walk. I wonder if this is a side-effect of his allergy medication, although it wasn't the case the first time he was on it. he was also unusually interested in going into the basement yesterday which he never really has been before. And of course, while I was picking up Kelsey's, he got into the unguarded garbage. Alas.

I think that about clears everything out, aside from the rest of the negative ickiness from last week. I'll write a bit. Today and this week have potential as I work toward getting back to some kind of routine and resume my job search (knowing that I will not be collecting untold thousands of dollars simply for watching ads.) And yeah, hopefully get my phone fixed.

Keep on rockin'

Scotto