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I Think it’s Wednesday?

Angus has fully embraced this new routine.

I went back to work this week, after three months on short-term disability for chemo. So far, work hasn’t made it any easier to track what day it is, but my office mates seem to be wholly unbothered by the change in our nap routines. Ragnar is having a lovely vacation with some friends’ dogs this week, which is why we’re all still alive in this house, because doggie daycare is closed until the stay-home order is lifted in Minnesota. fAngus gets all the picture attention today, I guess. He approved by jumping on my desk and sticking his butt in my face. He’s a jerk.

Fine, kick me off your desk, I’ll guard the doorway.

I have five weeks left of chemo. Oncology has changed significantly: everyone with patient contact wears masks now, the number of patients getting treatment at once is reduced to “corner chairs” only (it leaves us with more than 6′ of space between people), and no visitors can come along anymore. That last part is a bummer, because a lot of the shit that goes along with chemo already has to be handled alone, so having company during treatment was a nice break from being isolated with my own side effects and emotional processing. Thanks coronavirus, you asshole.

This isn’t a long post, because honestly nothing super exciting has happened this week now that I’m back at work for most of the day. I did discover while rearranging my office recently that I’m utterly incapable of hanging anything straight on the wall. That was not an LGBTQ reference…I mean I literally can’t seem to put anything on the wall so it’s level.

Like many of my other oddities and flaws, I think it’s best to just embrace the kittywampusness.

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