Trolls, good-byes and hungry cats.

The weekend was, all in all, uneventful. That made it restful to experience, but pretty difficult to write about. I’m still oscillating between being unable to sleep and then sleeping for ten or eleven hours like some winter-bound tulip bulb, but at least it means that I can look forward to a good night’s sleep once in a while still

The Garden Sister’s birthday falls on this Saturday. I purchased a set of oriental rice bowls, Year of the Rabbit theme, for her months ago, and set them aside for her birthday. The truly amazing thing is that I actually still remembered I had them when it came time to give thought to what I was giving her. I also have acquired a Troll House (meaningless to those of you who were not children in the sixties, and bound to evoke memories for those of you who were) for her; she’d recently lamented not having kept hers, so now I will give her a reason to lament lamenting this out loud. I would like to have found some period Trolls to go with it, but time is running out. On the plus side, this gives me something to look for come Christmas for her.

I visited work briefly today to participate in a good-bye party for one of my co-workers. His wife, who has diabetes, is apparently going blind, and she expressed a longing to move back upstate to be close to her family. He quite willingly gave up his job here so they could move back. It’s sad to lose him in the department, but I have to admire him at the same time. There’s a man who has his priorities screwed in straight.

No news from any of the doctor fronts for me, I fear. Still waiting on the liver biopsy results, the turnaround time of which is now approaching ludicrous. I calm myself by reminding me that no news in this case truly is good news. Had they found something awful, they’d have called me back pronto. I simply have to satisfy myself with being patient at the moment.

My weight slowly creeps back up again, by half a pound to a pound a day. This morning I weighed exactly what I weighed when I got out of the hospital. I have a nasty feeling that when my primary sees me Friday she’s going to want to rehospitalize me to try to more aggressively get the water weight back down. The rule of thumb is more than four pounds in a week is a concern, and by Friday, should I continue on this present trend, it will be closer to five pounds weight gain. I hate to suggest that they increase the Lassix dosages, but balancing that against another hospital stay, it looks to be the more appealing of the two options. I can wait until Friday to find out though.

Tomorrow I want to photograph the new digs, and perhaps present them in my diary to show off the new abode. I know it doesn’t sound like much, but at my current energy level it seems like an ambitious project. I also want to find out where my box of candles got to. The evenings are getting balmy, and I’d like to sit outside by candlelight and enjoy them.

Meanwhile, one of my neighbors is outside his apartment across the way with a skillsaw, doing who-knows-what. It’s a good thing I’m not tired yet, or I’d be really pissed rather than simply annoyed.

The cats think I’m never going to feed them again. With the O’beast waking me at 2:00. 4:00 and 6:30 last night, starving him to death does have a certain intangible appeal. But I suspect I shall succumb to his pleadings after hitting the “submit” button, and go down to pill him and slop my hogs.