14,761 Days Alive
239 Days Until My 15th Millenary Anniversary
5 +/- Types of Flowers I Want to Make into an Art Piece
Did you know that I can’t have any of my top three favorite flowers due to their potential toxicity to cats? Yup. Buttercups, specifically ranunculus like delphinium, foxglove, and tiger lilies are my hands-down favorite flowers.
I mean, I could wait until spring, get a bunch of fake ones from Michael’s or something like that? I could keep them in a nifty wall-mounted vase to make sure the cats don’t chew on them. Fake or not, it’s probably not good for them. I am not good with real plants anyway. The only one I never killed was the gorgeous golden pothos J gave me in the way-back era. Like, maybe before I got divorced? It’s been a hot minute.
Speaking of the remarkable and unceasing progression of time: just after my 41st birthday next year, I’ll have a weird anniversary! The 23rd of July, 2026, as of way-too-early in the morning, I will have been alive 15,000 days. Like… for someone that attempted to make sure I didn’t see my eighteenth birthday, I seem to have made it pretty fucking far, right?
Also, please know there are several birthdays today that are special to me. I don’t have direct permission to share whom. But, please know that there are several people who have been on the receiving end of my well wishes for their gestational escape anniversary.
In another “how the hell has time marched on so damn far?!”, I started going through my paper collection. It’s why I needed some hanging file folders so desperately! I am charging my label maker now, and listing out the labels I will need.
Pivoting to other types of creative blatherings for a moment: back when I was working with J at that university, I started drawing portraits of certain people, as I saw them, in the form of florigraphy. I actually just added a few books to my Holiday Wishlist to be able to draw more intricate portraits. And I do hope to draw a self-portrait in plant life some day.
If you can’t tell, I am dangling on a precipice of absolute despair right now. My uterus hates me and the feeling is mutual as hell. I was so short l-tempered today, I almost locked Spock out of the bedroom just to be angry alone.
I hate it, but I can’t afford insurance until I start my new part time job next week. Right now is super fucking stressful.
I’m not okay. But I am doing my best.
Take your meds, folks.
Postmark Wonderland 