Good progress

HAVE AS OF LAST NIGHT: 86.
ABSOLUTELY NEED: 90.
WOULD BE COMFORTABLE WITH: 110.

Today is the last day I can reasonably work on this. My day job is, of course, still in crunch mode, well past the Nth iteration of our latest deadline. I really "should" be doing day job work today instead, but I can just barely get away with taking the weekend off, so I will. Given that I'm doing that, weekdays need to be the "come in early and stay late" variety. So today is it.

I probably won't get to 110, but I'll make it well past ninety. I did fourteen yesterday. It's conceivable I could match that today. 100 would be a good goal to shoot for.

Damn, I want a break.

Frustration

Do you ever hear someone pontificating -- preaching -- about something that's fairly new to him and old hat to you? Under what circumstances does it or does it not bug you?

I find I can mostly shrug it off when it's about some kind of technical subject. If I know the speaker is a total fool or severely misinformed, then that's just the way it is, with no need for irritation. But I find I can't shrug it off when it's about living with foot pain or staying fit with a disability. Usually the preacher is not permanently disabled, just temporarily injured in some way, and my GOD the things they think are Big News to someone who's dealt with this for years. Sometimes I think the speaker is trying to be helpful; other times it's pretty clear the speaker is trying to chide me for how I handle things. In the latter case I just want to SLAP the person. My kinder side hopes karma doesn't work, because the appropriate end story to that one is a permanent disability with chronic pain.

Clearly my buttons are getting pushed. I wonder when my foot problems will be so firmly an accepted part of me that I don't even have buttons to push any more. In the meantime, I hope I can mostly avoid that kind of person. I don't want to turn rude and bitter.

I declare myself done

101 spotty, wriggly, and potentially ill-behaved little square dance sequences. That's what I've got. It's not only what I need but also something of a safety margin. More of a cushion would be nice, but I've got a day job, bills are due, taxes are due, and I have no groceries in the house -- in short, I need to do other things.

I've been working hard to make sure the calls flow well and that the choreo is interesting as well as challenging. As is usual for a dance I've been told to make particularly challenging, I am worried about it not being hard enough. (Usually I then show up and realize it's plenty hard. Fortunately, this group likes difficult stuff if the caller gives them extra time.)

I surface for air now. Bills, taxes, a very overfull inbox!, dinner, and cleaning up what the cat did. Here we go.

OW!

Busy frantic stressed not-sleeping stressed AH DONE WITH ONE THING maybe-I-can-sleep...

...and the abdominal pain chose this evening to attack, really attack. It hasn't been this bad (nor has it come on this fast) for ages. I feel like I'm being eaten alive, from the inside, by something with very sharp teeth. Probably a Langolier.

Oddly enough (given that this is direct nerve pain, and given last Thursday's procedure) I've got it only on the left so far. Hmmmmmm. Veddy intedesting.

Tonight is a wine AND painkillers night. Anyone who wants to scold me, raise your hand if you know you don't break under torture. Please speak up if you can teach me how.

Thank goodness this wasn't last week. Prep for the Bier block included no anti-inflammatories (of the kinds I've got sitting around the house) for seven days. I wouldn't have made it. (Some times I could, but not with a level like this.) I would have had to reschedule.

Night-night. Maybe I can sleep. Maybe.