New Audio page – up and full
New poll – up and working, now
Video page – up and working and full
Front page – rewritten
Graphic elements – added
I think I am done for a day or two on the site. I have to find a new mailing list plugin, but other than that, there is nothing I need to do with it. I think. Until someone tells me something is wrong.
I kept myself busy last night. The house got fully cleaned. I wasn’t done until 5:30 this morning. I took out all the garbage and cleaned the cat bowls since they were empty for the night. That created some excitement. I got a new video that I won’t lose this time of the cats, some of them. Just the ones laying around this morning. I’m going to work on it in Premier and see if I can’t get it brighter and watchable. It was dawn out, I had all the lights on, but the cats are mostly black.
I had the news on in the background, but I heard the name “Trump” five times in two seconds, so I had to turn it off. I think I will go for music. I found an album of U2 cover songs by big bands. I’m listening to “Who’s Gonna Ride Your Wild Horses?” by Garbage. Exquisite. I didn’t think I could like this song any more than I already did.
Doc was in a bad mood when he got home. The first thing he did was start lecturing me over something I did yesterday that we already covered. I told him that and got up and left where we were hanging out, smoking. I’ve been mad at him since. But he had a bad day, and he’s getting fucked over for New Year’s, again. He has to work his night shift on the Eve, and his new day shift on the Day. And he doesn’t get holiday pay because he is working it. Fucking Evil Corp. And he got totally screwed out of his schedule pick. And he doesn’t know how. There were lots of openings at night, when he wanted it. But they put him on days. It’s less money an hour and he has to put up with all the day time bureaucracy and office politics. That just sucks.
My schedule is fluid. I can adapt to whatever he’s working. I’m just bummed for him. For the spring/summer, he’ll be riding his bike at the hottest time of the day to get to work. That hardly seems fair. B said he had a loaner scooter for him, but it has yet to appear.
Doc ended up giving them money to get their son another Christmas present. I wasn’t happy about it, but they said it went to the kid, not a bottle of cheap whiskey for them. Their son seemed to have plenty of presents, according to the FB pictures. Whatever. I’m not allowed to hate on B out loud anymore. And I can’t do it on FB because his wife is my “friend”.
Time to go get the mail! The pharmacy wants a 90 day script for Latuda and my shampoo and conditioner are on sale, just as I’m running out of them. I’ll call my doctor sometime before my script runs out and get a 90 day and mail it in. These people are such sticklers. Evil fucking Corp. “We’re going to switch you to a prescription plan that will ream you at every available opportunity.” And this is medical insurance you have to wait some insane amount of time to get. You need to be on the ACA when you get a job at Evil Corp. They make their truck drivers wait a year for insurance. And they are union.
I’m listening to “that Scotsman” again. Doc would laugh. I hope he’s in a better mood when he wakes up, but I’m not counting on it. It all depends on when he went to bed. I woke up after 2, so any time up until there. And he should be in bed by 11. Yesterday, he got enough sleep for once, and got up an hour and a half early. He was up when I got up. It was very disorienting. I went back to bed until 10. I woke up to WWE wrestling. Horror of horrors.
Wow, it’s 4 already, and I haven’t been smoking pot all afternoon like usual. I’m trying to smoke less. Doc and I are having constant disagreements about it, and he’s not blooming the plants, so they are dying and it will be another couple of weeks before we can start another bloom. It’s expensive without our own stock. I don’t want him to spend the money, either. After all, I’m happy with smoking shit pot 3/4 of the year. I don’t need the best stuff. But that’s all we can get. I remember a time I had to scratch and struggle and wheedle just to get an eighth of mexican brown schwag. Now it’s a phone call for “chronic” delivery. Or, “the kind” as Doc used to call it (hippie). I just call it medical grade.
The music seems so loud, but if you walk away from the laptop, you can’t hear it. So strange. Can’t wait to get my headphones. Retro, baby blue, so they will go nicely with my hair when I finally do it blue.
I guess I’ll go see what trouble I can get into. I wonder if I have enough laundry to do a load. I got whipped cream on my new “blouse” last night. Super bummer.