Linux Librarian

Actually, my ass always hurts. Kinda has been the state of things since we moved (or a little before we moved) two years ago. It’s totally coincidental. I didn’t hurt my ass while moving, although I thought I must be perpetuating the hurt as I did things like paint the shit brown walls in the bedroom not shit brown… and then all the other walls. And it looks like I painted them with a pained ass, too. But it still looks better than it did and I got less paint on the floors and on random weird bits of trim. Whoever it was that painted the stairway last… they must have been high as kites when taping shit off. Good god almighty. This was but just one of the bizarre sort of things (also, the caulk. You can not use putty as a substitute for wood, and you can’t sculpt with it, and also you can’t use caulk as a substitute for putty that you’re substituting for wood that you are planning on sculpting an inch or… two… or three and a quarter… to hide (ahem) the fact you measured the trim wrong. Because you hid nothing. Nothing.)

So my ass hurts, generally, plus there are those other sorts of pains in the ass. One today happens to be WordPress, I think. Or else it is Lightroom. My last version of Lightroom I used was like… 4 or something… and it was a standalone CD install. This version is the sell your soul to Adobe cloud model and I have feelings about that, I tell you what, but I do indeed love the living shit out of Lightroom. So I think I might have exported a file with some kind of copyright or watermark or whatever and WordPress is just losing its shit about uploading. (Yes, previous photos were in fact done on an older Lightroom version).

Yesterday, our collective ass pain was Walt. Walter kept… having seizures. Now, don’t get me wrong, I understand completely it was way more of a pain in his little ass… but we were worried so we brought him to the emergency vet. Our vet is supposed to see him next week anyway but they couldn’t get him in for blood work or anything, and Paul thought he might be hurting and I wasn’t loving that we had what would have been a year’s worth of seizures in less than a day, so we brought him to the dog ER. He’s okay. He has epilepsy, and now he has an anticonvulsant, and they say the sleepiness wears off as he gets used to the pill, but I think half of his problem was he was tired after the first seizure and trying to work past it with his extra vigilance switch toggled on, and he kept cycling himself into more seizures, which then caused more muscle twitches and spasms, and then he became more vigilant because… I mean, someone was stealing into his head and shaking his hamster off the wheel. So he’s a sleepy boy, but I think that’s probably doing a lot to help him at the moment too.

We’re all limping along, but we’ve been doing that here. I guess on the upside it has made the whole pandemic thing easier. Honestly, while I know the world is forever changed, obviously, the biggest thing for me is remembering to have the mask on walks and getting over the fact that while I will never miss shopping, I do miss the idea of just being able to. If the all clear was given and was actually, you know, for real, not just something the piece of shit that is stinking up the Resolute Desk in the Oval Office said was true because he doesn’t care who lives or dies… but if the all clear rang out for real and it was totally fine to just go to the mall, you know I would rather self immolate than go there.

The fucking mall. Please. Or a water park. Let me go splash around in a park full of screaming kids, sunburned grandparents and a lazy river attraction that is 1% employee sadness and 99% urine. But my feelings on water parks and whatnot might be better handled some other day.

I would tell her that one day, you will find a couple seventeen inch hairs growing off your chin, and it’s okay. You’re not turning into a goat, and anyway… Goats are cool, they’re like extra smart, pointy dogs. Anyone who says otherwise can kindly fuck off.

And that’s why I have no children. The three pugs close as it gets. I would imagine children shed less than pugs, and if I tell Dee that she has chin hairs she’s kinda like “Uh. No shit.”

So, new laptop, and there’s this ephemeral message notification pop up and Jesus FUCK is that thing irritating. Thanks for telling me about the spam email trying to sell N95 masks for my pugs, motherfuckers.

We had to take one of the pugs to the doggy psychologist. I’m 87% sure the issue between Bruce (the murderpug) and Walter is my fault. Keeping records of the worst periods was helpful. The problem is that I can’t get involved in their fights as I make it worse sometimes even before they get real nasty. And I mean… it sounds funny, but it is fucking horrifying. There is blood and the potential for eye loss and in one case leg amputation (I think the vet was driving the point home that the fight going so far was abnormal. And dog mouths are gross.) At any rate, they are doing a lot better now.  We put Walter on an anti anxiety medication (because he was also part of the problem) and so he’s way less obsessive than he was, which kinda helped Bruce turn down the murderpug level.

Yeah, so anyway, all that lead up to say Bruce has a muzzle and a pug in a muzzle looks like he is in a luchadore mask or dressed like Hannibal Lechter. I prefer luchadore. He is a lovely little dog but we don’t know exactly where he came from and he’s pretty intense and hard to read.

Nothing deep here at the moment. Just trying to reacquaint myself with the notion of doing this on a daily basis or thereabouts. A more responsive, less massive laptop and/or a larger tablet with a keyboard is helpful in getting the job done. I have a lot of shit to say of probably relatively mild interest, but I never really got past the “instead of composing in my head I should just turn on the fucking computer and go write it” and truthfully, the tablet got manky and tablet keyboards are a massive pain in the ass.

You can be pretty sure I am not blogging from the toilet. Pretty sure.