August 21, 2026

Today’s update.

Today was… a day.

That’s about the best description I have for it. It wasn’t necessarily a bad day. It wasn’t a particularly good day either. Things happened. I accomplished stuff. My brain is still trying to figure out how I feel about all of it.

I ran some errands and managed to knock a few things off the never-ending list of Things You Have To Do When Someone Dies™. I did, however, completely forget to call Mom’s life insurance company. Hopefully they’re open on Saturdays. If not, congratulations, Monday Filly. That’s your problem now.

I did make it to my doctor’s appointment today. We talked about some of the things I’ve been concerned about regarding my own future, particularly Alzheimer’s and heart disease, and I walked away with a bunch of referrals so I can start getting a better assessment of my risks.

It’s weird planning for your own future while you’re still dealing with the aftermath of losing someone else’s.

I don’t necessarily want to spend my life worrying about what might happen to me, but I do want information. If there are things I should be watching, I want to know about them. If there are preventative things I can do, I want to do them. I’ve spent enough time dealing with healthcare systems to know that sometimes you have to be the one asking the questions.

So, referrals acquired.

Future appointments incoming.

We’ll deal with those when they happen.

Thank You Cards, Orders and More Death Paperwork

When I got home, Mom’s funeral thank-you cards had arrived.

That was another weird little grief task.

I stuffed all the envelopes, and now I just need to locate my envelope sealer because I absolutely refuse to lick that many envelopes. Once I find the damn thing, I can get those into the mail tomorrow.

It’s strange how many ordinary office supplies become involved in death.

Pens. Stamps. Envelopes. Forms. Folders. Certified copies.

All these completely mundane objects attached to things that hurt like hell.

But then I came home to something else too.

Five orders for the shop.

That was a nice surprise.

I got everything packaged up and ready to go, and I’ll have the postal service grab them during regular mail pickup. Every time an FRDCreations order comes through right now, it gives me this tiny little reminder that this other part of my life is still here waiting for me.

I’m not ready to jump completely back into everything yet, but the business is still moving.

So am I, apparently.

Even when it doesn’t particularly feel like it.

Because Apparently I Plan for Everything Now

Then I spent part of the evening getting quotes for long-term care insurance.

Fun Friday night activity, right?

But after everything I’ve experienced over the last several years, I think about these things differently now. I want safety nets. I want plans. I want as much control over my future care as I can reasonably give myself while I’m healthy enough to make those decisions.

Because if, and that’s a big fucking if, I stay in this country as I get older, I want to know I have options if someday I need help.

Maybe I’ll never need it.

God, I hope I don’t.

But I’d rather have a plan I never use than someday desperately need one I never made.

So apparently this is what adulthood looks like now. Filing wills, researching insurance policies and simultaneously contemplating whether I should introduce another small furry agent of chaos into my home.

Which brings us to…

Beaker Is Being a Dickhead Again

Sir.

My beloved little asshole has decided that I am not allowed to leave him unsupervised for approximately five minutes without him finding something to destroy.

I love this dog with my entire heart.

But Jesus fucking Christ.

His separation anxiety has gotten so much worse, and right now it’s creating this ridiculous catch-22. I need to finish getting the house and downstairs spaces organized so they’re safe and functional. But I need to leave Beaker alone for periods of time to actually accomplish that. And when I leave Beaker alone, Beaker apparently wakes up every morning and chooses property damage.

So the sooner I get everything puppy-ready, the sooner I can start seriously looking for a companion for him.

Because he needs a buddy.

And honestly?

I think I might need one too.

There’s something about a puppy that brings this ridiculous amount of joy into a house. Puppy breath. Tiny paws. Zoomies. That little fat puppy belly. Watching Beaker figure out what the hell this tiny creature is doing in his house.

It could be good for both of us.

Of course, puppies also bring shark teeth.

And potty training.

And chewed furniture.

And stolen socks.

And 3 a.m. bathroom trips.

And apparently my solution to Beaker destroying things because he doesn’t want to be alone is considering bringing home another animal that will also destroy things.

I’m beginning to see a flaw in this plan.

But…

Puppy breath.

PUPPY BREATH.

Look, I never claimed grief was improving my decision-making skills.

Anyway, today was a day.

I went to the doctor. I got my referrals. I handled errands. I stuffed funeral thank-you cards. I packaged five shop orders. I researched another piece of my future. I kept myself fed, medicated and functioning.

And Beaker continued his ongoing campaign against my personal belongings.

I’m exhausted.

I still don’t really know how I feel today.

But things got done.

Tomorrow there will be more things to do because apparently that’s how life works.

And maybe somewhere in the near future there will be a tiny beagle with shark teeth running around this house making terrible decisions alongside his big brother.

This is either going to be wonderful or the dumbest fucking thing I’ve ever done.

Probably both.

Okay, bye.