my poor wrist

My wrist has been fucked up all weekend, which isn’t that unusual, my wrist is at least sort of fucked up all the time, but it was worse this weekend, to the point where the pain and watching the Wild lose on Saturday afternoon almost made me cry. It’s a little bit better now though. My partner came over, and made me buy a new brace when I couldn’t find either of my old ones, and made me stop trying to do things. We watched a lot of movies, and cuddled on the couch. It was really nice. That’s all we did yesterday as well, which is a perfect Valentine’s Day. We watched Lilo and Stitch, and Ghostbusters, which she had never seen and didn’t love as much as I do, and then hours of This Old House, which was inspiring. There had been a piece of trim held onto the kitchen sink with duct tape and desperation. This morning I yanked it off to uncover the rotten wood and see what’s going on in there. I have a plan to fix it up, which should be cool. I’m not all that handy, but it’s one of those things where no matter how badly I fuck it up it’ll be better than before, cause it won’t be held up with duct tape. At least some attempt to fix it will have been made, and it’s about damn time. This house is coming apart all around us, and my parents aren’t exactly motivated to do much. They’re never going to sell this house. They talk about moving sometimes, but they’ve been talking about moving since I was like ten years old, and it’s never going to happen. I’ve made my peace with this, I’m just gonna do what I can to keep it together. I’m only working one day this week, so I need a project, especially since my wrist is still fucked enough that I’m not sure about typing too much. Like, I’m doing it, obviously, right this very moment, but I’m definitely limited, and trying to be actually producitive like this would be a fucking terrible idea. Taking that piece of border off and tearing up the falling off tile was also a terrible idea, but well. I’ve got time.


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