Ahhhh the Hugos! So many awesome winners! So many categories that were completely stacked with great nominees! And so many great speeches–let us make the Hugo ceremony this political every year. And have Afua Richardson host, is there anything she can’t do? Seriously, I was expecting to see her come in on a trapeze at any moment.
Apropos of nothing at all, my favorite poem about bog bodies.
I’ve been watching a lot of the “Science” Channel (which has taken to cramming 2-3 already aired episodes of programs together and call them new) and getting increasingly frustrated with how cheesy and Ancient Aliens-ish a lot of their newer shows are; Contact, I am looking at you.
Also, old episodes of Murder, She Wrote are oddly soothing. Every so often they let Angela Lansbury chew on some scenery, each episode’s set up is vaguely ridiculous, and the guest stars and costumes are the best.
So reading. Not a whole lot of it going on as I haven’t had the mental energy for it. I did read Tessa Dare’s new book, The Wallflower Wager, and liked it quite a bit. A content note on it, though: the heroine has a history of sexual abuse and while it is not discussed in graphic detail, it is discussed on the page (I could see it coming a mile away, Dare was not subtle about clueing in the reader on this piece of the heroine’s history).
Cubicle-land is still going well. It’s still fairly quiet and I’m still enjoying the space.
I am currently stressed out by the bullshit that is intermittent/FMLA leave which HR said I had to put in for in order to “protect myself from retaliation.” Now, every time I’m out for a doctor appointment or procedure, I get to call the company that administers the intermittent/FMLA leave (and short term disability) and they get to amend my timesheet to dock my pay by how much time I’m out. I wish I were kidding, but I’m not. HR, of course, did not mention this little fact when they told my manager I needed to do this (they made no mention of an ADA accommodation, hmmm). I am an exempt employee and I can guarantee you that if I were working 60 hours a week I wouldn’t be getting overtime.
My manager literally does not care if I work 36 hours instead of 40 in a given week as long as the work is getting done–which it is. She’s told me, in fact, that my health needs to be my top priority.
I find it utterly infuriating that I am being nickel and dimed like this–I am essentially being financially penalized by my workplace for being disabled. And that’s some bullshit.
I go in for a procedure to insert a stent into my portal vein; hoping this resolves the fluid situation which is currently not very fun. I’ll be out of work for three days, which triggers short term disability which is paid, unlike intermittent/FMLA leave.
Saw the NP at my endocrinologist’s practice a few weeks ago and she ordered labs to see how much insulin my pancreas is making and the answer is “not enough.” So I’m on insulin now and will be for the rest of my life. I’m currently only on a long-acting insulin that I take at bedtime, but after we collect more data on my blood sugar levels throughout the day, I’ll also have to take a fast-acting before meals. This is my thrilled face. (Although the needles on insulin pens are much less painful than those on my finger sticky thingummy.)
Oh, god. What’s productivity?
Seriously, I’m still married to my notebook/planner at work, but things at home are not super-great in part because I’m measuring my life out in coffee spoons and am often wiped out when I get home from work. But I did spend an hour and a half or so painting yesterday evening, which was nice. No, you can’t see.