Lost day

Yesterday was a lost day.

Also a day filled with a lot of pain.  It should have been Dad’s 65th birthday.  The day he would have retired.  I remember us joking years ago about how retirement would have driven Dad nuts.  He was a workaholic – but someone who was a workaholic because he genuinely loved his work.  He’d talked sometimes about going to uni in his retirement, just to learn whatever interested him.  I hate cancer, because it took that away from him.  I only hope that wherever he is now, he was saluting his birthday with a beer and laughing.

I also increased my dose of the new drug, which landed me with side effects anew.  Nausea, fatigue, generally feeling like I’d been hit by a very large and solid stick.

So, a lost day.

I did manage some reading – still comfort reading, in that I picked up de Lint’s The Painted Boy.  Which I bought when it was released and hadn’t yet cracked.  After this, some review and awards reading, dammit.    And book club reading.  I did realise, entering stuff into Goodreads, that I’d passed 100 books for the year.  Which is pretty awesome.

I did go for a walk yesterday, which was a somewhat foolish choice, since I was quite ill by the end of it.  But I hadn’t walked the previous two days, and it was nice weather.

And last night we played LOTRO, the updates to which had the poor husband scratching his head as he figured out how his class worked now.  I lucked out, in that my class didn’t change overmuch.  I was so exhausted that I didn’t get to play too much before I had to head to bed to crash out.  Where I was very thankful that the kidlet now sleeps through the night, since I got eight solid hours of sleep (apart from the technicolour dreams that seem to haunt me these days)

Mirrored from Stephanie Gunn.