August 22, 2026

Today’s update.

Let’s play a game.

Two truths and a lie:

I feel great today.
I have a puggle named Beaker.
I live in Niles.

Can you guess which one is the lie?

I’ll give you a hint.

I do not feel great today.

Got it yet?

Yeah. It’s one of those days.

I’m not feeling particularly functional today, and yet somehow I still managed to function. Grief continues to be weird like that. There are days when my brain and body are screaming at me to do absolutely nothing, but apparently some stubborn little part of me refuses to completely cooperate.

So I did the basics. I ate. I took my meds. I took care of Beaker. Then I managed to sort some new inventory for the shop.

And I shaved my head.

That desperately needed to happen because my hair had reached that awkward floppy stage where it stops looking intentionally shaved and starts looking like I just lost an argument with a lawn mower.

Much better now.

So despite feeling like shit emotionally, I accomplished something today.

Actually, I accomplished several things.

I’m trying to remind myself that those things count even when they don’t feel particularly impressive. There was a time when I’d never consider eating, taking my medication, sorting a little inventory and shaving my head worthy of an accomplishment. That’s just… life.

But life is fucking hard right now.

So I’m counting it.

Tomorrow’s Great Adventure: Laundry

Tomorrow I’m going to attempt something truly ambitious.

Laundry.

I need to get myself back into a weekly routine with it because my hamper is officially full and we’re rapidly approaching the you cannot continue pretending you don’t see this stage.

It’s funny because when Mom was here, her laundry was always done. Either I did it or one of her caregivers did it, but every week her clothes were washed, folded and put away.

Mine?

Ehhh.

I’ll get to it.

Eventually.

That’s probably because I own approximately seventeen thousand T-shirts and enough sweatpants to survive a small apocalypse. I can get away with ignoring laundry much longer than any responsible adult probably should.

But the hamper has spoken.

Tomorrow we wash clothes.

Hopefully.

Let’s not make promises we can’t keep.

There’s something I’ve been noticing lately, though. I spent so many years making sure somebody else’s needs were taken care of that taking care of myself was often whatever happened afterward. Mom needed clean clothes, so Mom had clean clothes. Mom needed meals, medication, appointments or something handled, so those things got handled.

My stuff could wait.

Now there isn’t anyone else’s laundry that needs to come first.

There’s just mine.

I’m still figuring out how to make myself one of the people I’m responsible for taking care of.

Apparently that’s going to require some practice.

Monday Me Has Another Problem

I also tried to call Mom’s life insurance company today.

They were closed.

So congratulations again, Monday Me. I’ve left you another present.

Once I get that handled, I should only have one more bank to deal with, and then most of the financial stuff will finally be finished.

That’s huge.

It doesn’t feel huge because every completed task seems to reveal another one sitting behind it, but when I think about everything I’ve handled over the past month, I’ve actually gotten through a ridiculous amount of paperwork.

Then comes the house.

That’s the part I’m taking my time with.

There are decisions involving the trust that I need to make, and eventually I have to start dealing with the actual house and everything inside it.

I’m not rushing that.

Paperwork is one thing. Bank accounts are numbers on a screen. Insurance policies are documents. Forms are forms.

A house is different.

A house holds a life.

It holds furniture and clothes and photographs and drawers full of things nobody thought twice about while they were alive. Eventually I’m going to have to walk through all of that and decide what happens next.

And I know that’s going to be an emotional fucking mess.

So I’m giving myself some time before I open that particular door.

It’ll happen.

Everything is happening, slowly.

Maybe that’s enough right now.

Today wasn’t a good day. I’m not going to pretend it was just because I managed to accomplish a few things. I still feel shitty. I’m still grieving. I’m still trying to figure out what the hell this version of my life is supposed to look like.

But I got out of bed.

I did the basics.

I worked on some inventory.

I shaved my floppy-ass head.

That’s something.

Tomorrow, we tackle Mount Laundry.

Or at least one load.

Let’s manage expectations here.

Enjoy your Saturday.