Murder Olympics

[thepnutgallery]

The moth situation had been getting bad. I'd been finding larvae in the ceiling crevices, and I didn't want to go back to smashing them or use a glue trap. Not that it's much better, but apparently the Bug Barrier pesticide I have will work on both them and the tiny flies that had made my apartment their home. I have no idea what any of them are doing here, tbh, because I rarely even use dishes, much less left out food or the like. Since I had the refill version, which was much cheaper than the version with a spray bottle, I zipped over to the store before work to snag an empty spray bottle and more Omeprazole. I picked up some veggie sushi while I was there because I had a coupon for $1 off. It was still far more than I usually spend on a meal, but I've certainly spent more on less.

It turned out the spray bottle only fired jets, not sprays, so I borrowed the nozzle from one of my other bottles. It's nice that they're all standard fittings. Unfortunately, there was an Annie the Security Guard-esque moment, because I tried to spray the ceiling, it was too high, and the stuff fell right back on my face. Lorde.

We had our weekly meeting, my webcam still wouldn't work, but Lady Miss Friday joined as soon as it started....only to then ask me to make a cave for her with the blanket and hold it up. Everyone laughed about the lengths I go to making her happy. I'm Goal Oriented. Zach, a gent I'd had a fairly stellar trick with a while ago, who had his own tumble with addiction (his was meth), messaged me in the morning because he was coming down from North County for the day, but I was too focused on work to take a break out. Also, our water was turned off from 10-4, and the drilling was just as loud and irritating as it was yesterday. My mom and Julian both called before the end of the day, but I stayed focused. I worked up and offered *almost* all the NOAs from the week, except the very last one where I couldn't find the client in CDCR or on Vinelink. Ran out of time to look for him, and my claims will need triage next week as well. Not as bad as some of the other processors, but still.

Mitchell tagged me in the same The Last Unicorn post FHA did yesterday. I'm honestly delighted by this, much like my joy at my friends associating Kelly Clarkson or Fiona Apple music with me. I am known. Even more surprising, whoever runs The Last Unicorn page actually replied directly to me.

Julian called me again in the evening, and it was...healthy? Mostly good, anyway, as we talked about music, and depression and injuries. It was a little awkward that he insisted his black eye was worse than that time I looked like I got the living fuck beat out of me. IDGAF, I'm not competing on this, is was just odd. He also asked if my addiction was the cause of my depression. On the one hand, Tim pointed out that TBI is often linked with depression, though I suppose it's just been correlation, not causation. On the other, I've planned to tap out any time I could since I was 14, so while my addiction might have accelerated things, it was very most definitely not the cause.

Tim called, so I had to leave the conversation. He came over with Pupple, though not only was I drunk, I'dbeen leaning on my meds fairly heavily. Pupple fucked his sex doll too hard, and couldn't get his dick sheathed again. It eventually fixed itself, but I was off enough to freak out about him not being happy. Tim also looked at Lady Miss Friday's bump, and advised that it was probably nothing, but did get upset at her weight. That whole "discipline" is the part of parenting I'm not so great at. We got into an argument, though I was tipsy enough that I only vaguely recall that it was either something to do with my enabling or my desire to end all of existence. Or both.