Stress... Pink eye, out of sick time, wife is in Canada, she and our grandson really badly want time with me on #Minecraft. Our dog is freaked out being home alone. She used to have Frisco & Freddy cats, "da boyz." Then it was just Freddy, and now Freddy is gone, and so is "momma," my wife. I can't explain "momma" will come back, that the voice and picture on the phone is her. So I give her anxiety meds before work.

Went to work, listed as off. I'll have to check with HR for vacation time rather than sick time. It should be OK. Should. "Should" in one hand, "shit" in the other, see what fills faster. I need to tidy the apartment, put things back in order from maintenance work done on the wall last night. The
moron who built the place "on the cheap" didn't insulate the sprinkler pipes so in some places those burst. New owner the last several years has been sinking money for infrastructure improvements, if not corrections for the previous owner / builder. I'm glad our pipes didn't burst, we are OK, and our rent is relatively low because we pay like clockwork, we keep our place up, and we keep an eye on things.

We have it well, better than many. But it's still an unusual amount of adulting for me. There's more I can whine about, but it's just whining. Snot and boogers should be a nose product, not an eyeball product. Time to go back upstairs to reassure my dog I'm not dead yet, even if I can't convince her Momma is coming back. The soul crushing part is being alone. Tilly needs me.