do you believe you can walk on water?

So you can look up Probate docs online because most of it is public record so that's cool to know. That means Rob (or myself, or my other brother) can check to see if anything else has been filed or whatever else which is pretty cool. You end up with a list like this:


( Read more... )

As I wrote in this entry, my wife made me Zweigle's (Zweigles?) skinned (not skinless, meaning there is a casing) hotdogs, and I'd promised to report back with my findings, so that is what I am doing.

All of the Rochester natives will be happy to know...they were good.

Like really good.

Like, "probably the best hot dog I've had tbh" good and with that sentence I might not be allowed back to New Jersey because it will be taken as slander against the "illustrious hotdog" known as Sabrett's but, imo, that's okay lol considering NJ is also the state where they argue over things like whether it's a pork roll sandwich or a taylor ham sandwich.

As far as preparation goes, they were fried on the stovetop griddle and the buns were toasted, as you do; I had them with...

• Wegmans brand sweet relish (better than Heinz sweet relish)


• Wegmans brand spicy brown mustard


• topped with Wegmans brand ketchup (also better than Heinz)

Literally the best hotdogs ever had. I might actually like hotdogs now. Maybe the problem growing up was the brand used, maybe it was how they were cooked/prepared, I don't know. These felt like they had substance to them, and that nice char from our griddle made them even better. Def wouldn't mind having them again!

(Maybe instead of having bologna I'll just get these and eat them like grilled meat sticks...)

My track record growing up was never good when it came to hotdogs. They used to give me digestive issues because of the skin on them, so I was more or less forbidden from ever having them. Maybe it wasn't the skin on them so much as how they were prepared. Who fucking knows. Egg forbid me from ever having any. Any time they were offered I had to turn them down and have something else instead, like cheeseburgers or something.

In high school during International Festival, one of the foods representing the US was the hotdog, and on a whim I decided to try one since Mrs C grilled them and they smelled really good. I had them with the works (minus sauerkraut) so relish, mustard, ketchup, all that. And they were good and I didn't have any problems whatsoever. But they were prepared properly—fried—so maybe that had something to do with it? I don't know. When I'd told Egg about my hotdog epiphany, she acted shocked.
"You always hated hotdogs though and refused to eat them as a kid."
Yeah, because you said they made me ill, so I was never given them after a certain point. You know who never really cared for hotdogs?

Egg. The woman who was trying to turn me into her mini-me. Unsuccessfully, I might add.

This morning Karu woke up and wasn't sure if they had the strength or ability to shower today but the fact that they felt gross outweighed everything else and I'd reasoned with them if they couldn't wash everything to just hit up the important bits and bobs and that would be enough. Sometimes you need to compromise with yourself when you deal with things like chronic pain and chronic fatigue and they decide to gang up on you and try to steal your lunch money. They got up and decided they didn't want to front nor did they want to deal with much of anything today, so I got the "honor" of playing this part.

"The role of Karu will be played by Aleksey today..."

Clothes off. Ah right, today is Monday—laundry day.
Removed our smartwatch and placed that on top of the clothes we would be wearing once we were clean. Last time I'd placed it on the toilet tank lid it vibrated due to a push notification and ended up nearly falling into the toilet; disaster was averted but only because the toilet lid was closed. Karu remarked to me once that the way I take my watch off is "strange". I don't take it off in a way that is different from everyone else, so when I asked for elaboration, Karu said, "I feel like I'm about to get spanked once you've placed it on the sink counter."
Unless I have a reason to spank you, Karu, you don't have to worry about me doing that.

(Usually.)

We'll need to grab a new bottle of shampoo from the hall closet soon. I've said this every time I've showered for the past three or four months now. It's an endless bottle, I suppose. Rinse. Conditioner that is unfortunately not anywhere close to being finished. I hate the bottle and how hard it is to squeeze it for a body whose hands can't grip or squeeze things. Body wash. I don't know if these are bug bites we got from mowing the lawn (especially since they're in areas that were covered by clothing) or if it's eczema flare ups or if it's both. Annoying considering the last times we've mown the lawn nothing like this happened.

I managed to take care of everything and even had time for a quick panic attack over everything that's happened over the past I don't know how many months and that combined with how much still needs to happen created the perfect storm of Anxiety. I turn the shower handle and the water shuts off, dripping quite a bit still before that too stops. I squeeze the handle harder than I usually do, as if I'm trying to get a hold of my anxiety and the sheer panic our mind is in before I pulled the shower curtain open and grab our bathrobe.

Get your fucking shit together, Yuy.
I pulled myself together and left the shower more or less fresh and clean. I dried myself off and wondered, idly, when the new bathrobe Karu ordered would be arriving, because it would be nice to swap them from week to week instead of washing and then having to use the same one over and over...or be without because it's in the wash and needing to use one of the towels instead. I've been accused in the past of being a bit of a "prima donna" because I use so many towels, but my problem is I hate feeling wet and it's a sensory issue for me. I especially hate being wet and cold and guess where the air vent is? On the floor, right next to the tub.

Dry off. Get dressed. Moisturize our face because that's important. Deodorant. I grab the baby powder and put some in the area our smartwatch goes to avoid rashes from sweat. Yeah, our skin is that sensitive. It helps. I put the watch back on and Karu acts like I've pulled my belt off the pants I'm not wearing. Morticia comes into the bathroom to make sure we're not dead and, finding that we're still alive, darts off to elsewhere.

I grab our hamper from the bedroom and empty the one in the bathroom. It wasn't really a lot so it's Doable™. It's an item I can easily check off as completed in Karu's Finch app. Wondered briefly if I needed to wear our ankle brace and then noted if it still hurts this bad we can at least wear the compression sock tomorrow. I grab the kitchen towels and throw them in with everything else I need to wash, neglecting to get the hand towel from the bathroom and not really caring. No one really uses that one anyway. 

The basement is quite cold which isn't surprising since there is an air vent in the main part of the space and we have the AC on plus the dehumidifier. Cold but refreshingly so. The thermometer we have down there says it's 61.3 degrees Fahreinheit. First load into the washer, no scented beads since it's underwear even though we have the ones without dyes or perfumes. Better to be safe than sorry. I take out the load from yesterday's drying cycle and find a pair of shorts to wear so I can go out and check the mail.

Which I do, once everything is situated in the basement. I detour out the sidedoor and check the mailbox. Nothing exciting, just some junk mail from two owners ago, something else for that same person (who hasn't lived here since 2019), something from M&T for Serena, and more junk. It's hot as hell outside, so I retreat back into the house where it's not hot and humid thanks to climate control...and into the kitchen to make this phone call.

The lone Overwhelming and Anxiety-Inducing Thing™ for today: call Elmira Water Board and schedule getting their smart meter installed for our water; I'm sick of getting notices in the mail where they accuse us of ignoring them—we aren't, we're just two people who have ADHD and that means executive dysfunction—and I really don't want them to think we're "denying access" (and thus breaking some Town of Elmira ordinance). I don't want the water cut off and then we have to pay the $75 fee to get it put back on and the stupid meter installed.

The notice has a phone number listed at the bottom for the main office, so I call it. I get greeted by an IVR system that warns me the call might be recorded for quality assurance purposes and security. Okay. It launches into the options:

Press 0 for autopay, press 1 for customer service, press 2... ...press 6 for meter...

Okay, which one do I press to get in touch with the main office? You would think they would have what option connects you to where they want you to go on the stupid paper. I guess customer service can always direct me if I messed this up.

At least the woman who picked up the phone after 5...6...7...8 rings is nice and pleasant sounding.

"I'd like to schedule the smart meter installation."
"Sure, what's the address?"
I tell her.
"Okay, would you prefer morning or afternoon?"
"Afternoon."
"Great... Do you have a particular day that works for you, or do you want whatever is available next?"
"Whatever is available next."
She gives me the dates. I tell her the 17th would be fine.
"Would 1 to 3:30pm be a good time slot for you?"
"Yeah."
"Okay... What number can we reach you at?"
I give her our number because I don't have Serena's memorized. She repeats it to confirm it's correct.
"That's correct."
"Okay then. Thank you for calling. Have a great day."
"Thanks, you too."

I add the information to our Google Calendar and as our lunch gets heated up in the microwave I end up having an anxiety attack.
Yuy, you're supposed to be the functional one.
Are any of us actually functional in this body, or are we just three gremlins in a trenchcoat?

While I stand there in the kitchen going through the mail, our dinner leftovers reheating in the microwave, I can feel a "sense" like the world is about to come to an end for some inexplicable reason I can't name as anything except "impending existential crisis". Nothing we have to get done this month or in the coming months is particularly "world ending", but our brain sure makes it seem like we need to get these things done and done now or else the Colony Drop is happening and there is nothing to do but pray to an unhearing god. Karu remarks that "normal people don't ever have to feel this SOUL CRUSHING FEELING when doing mundane and everyday tasks."
To which I remind them, "You aren't 'normal people'. You have an anxiety disorder that causes you to spiral when we're rawdogging the small amounts of dopamine and serotonin the brain gives us like scraps of food we as starving animals should be grateful for. Sometimes it likes to team up with Major Depression and feature Psychosis."

All of this has been exacerbated by the grief Karu has for their friend Eric (who died beginning of June, so that wound is still very, very fresh) and the grief Karu still has over having to basically run away with whatever they could abscond away with to Elmira, quitting their job and leaving everyone they know behind in the process,
Grief over being forced to start everything over.
Grief over the things they could've had and didn't; over the things they should've had and didn't; over the mother they should've had and never did... It's a lot. It affects all of us here.

Oh, and then the Fotze had the nerve to accidentally light herself on fire and die the next day so now everyone is roped into signing off on her estate dispersement, including her disinherited son who has no part or parcel in this fight nor does he have a horse in this race.

Maybe things feel particularly raw today because it's Eggberta's birthday. I hope Sadinya left you a particularly stinky shit in the afterlife as a gift, Egg. I hope you enjoy the gift that Karu is getting me and Serena with your money because it's a Cuddle Clone of our beloved Sadie.

Yeah, Eggberta, we do love that cat more than we've ever loved you.