Random Crap

 I just threw some laundry downstairs to the basement and pushed the door closed, but then realized as I was walking away that it didn't click shut and was too lazy to go back. So tonight when I'm up in bed alone and I hear a door on the main floor click shut, can someone remind me that that happens when I leave it open, and that it's not a serial killer coming upstairs to kill me serially? 

I'm in the middle of two husbandless weeks, and I'm getting weird. I'm at the part of winter where it's still winter but I have remembered that I need to get out of the house every day even if it's really, really hard. It got stupid cold again, but today is better - not so cold that Lucy won't walk but cold enough that the ice is frozen and not slushy and gross. 

I resisted the temptation to hermit on the weekend. I went to a movie on Friday (Send Help - very good. Amazing to me that they could make Rachel McAdams unattractive for any length of time. Dylan O'Brien has never struck me as a great actor, but he embodies the Ultimate Sleazebag Douche flawlessly.). Saturday Eve's friend Davis was coming home on the train for her study break. The last of the five friends moved away from Ottawa this winter, and Davis's mom (my friend Jody (not my sister Jody)) was in the Dominican for a couple more days, so I jumped on the opportunity to pick Davis up and take her out for dinner with almost unseemly enthusiasm. She is not only as Eve-adjacent as I get to be until March Break, but she is hilarious and adorable and smart and fun to hang out with (they all are), and it was lovely.

Sunday I had went to my mom and dad's for dinner. Nance asked if I always take Lucy there when I work to be dog-sat, and for the most part I do. Especially since Covid, Lucy does not love being left home alone, and I try not to leave her for more than a couple hours. My parents live close by and I feel like it's good for them too, and then I get a short visit in after work. There is a fun little moment every time where I open their door, which they often don't hear because they are both in their eighties and their hearing is not the best, and then I hear Lucy hit the floor from her perch on the top of the couch to wag her way over to the front door to greet me, and then I hear them both start laughing. My 83-year-old mom still shovels off the back deck so Lucy can get to the stairs and go run around in the yard, and takes her for a long walk when it's not too cold or snowy. My dad does not have great mobility, so she snuggles beside him on the couch and sleeps for most of the rest of the day

This post has been sitting here all week now and I can't figure out how to finish it, so I'm going with... not. Just got back from the doctor - is it just me, or once you turn fifty is it just a constant round of getting your boobs squished and your cervix scraped and that's just the infrastructure, not even body work (haven't decided on that yet.)