The Worst People
Seem to be running through my day. I'm having a the worst people are happy right now moment. And we're not.
I only had the news on for a few minutes because I like Jim Sciutto and I thought I'd hear an update about Ukraine. None of it was good and I got distracted by a call. My mom had turned it off. She was ready to cry. I said it's ok. I wasn't that interested. I was going to find something distracting. Definitely not that.
No, I'm not ok about Ukraine. It's getting bullied and Zelensky is being called a dictator? This guy could have taken a ride of out of town and he's been walking the walk. He's a freaking hero. I just . . . am tired.
The lurker seems to be wrecking havoc on my days without being here because I have to adjust what I'm working on and figure out problems I have no clue on because the lurker really doesn't want anyone touching anything they do. No communication. No anything about how long this will last. I don't need to know the reason. Would really like to know when and for long. Simple things.
Kind of wondering what the deal is with the monster downstairs. Chances are, he doesn't know, but I feel like his girlfriend might want to find something because this could cause problems for her if law enforcement is involved.
I am worried about my healthcare in the next couple of years with RFK Jr in charge of all of this. I worry will I get covid shots? Can I afford my co-pays? Am I going to have to go off of my anti-depressant? I'm not a fan but it helps me cope with fascism. I don't want to go to a wellness farm. Definitely safe to say that I can't afford that MRI. I'll be lucky enough to afford anything if they keep tearing things apart. Oh well. Health insurance was kind of nice. I guess.
At least Jack Schlossberg is back on social media with his goofy videos. I have to find my light keepers anyway I can get it.
I am feeling full of doom today. I have a touch of sarcasm sprinkled in it, but I'm not feeling so great about the world today.
I need a hug. Candy will do. Not too much though. I want to shake those John Fetterman sweatshirts and not feel funny about my thick arms. No tank tops. Just more cat shirts.
I still got my sarcasm. Until someone throws a tariff on it.
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