There, I did it.

personal

The nagging of my conscience couldn’t do it, but a bit of extra public embarrassment worked. I wrote today!

Only 250-ish words, true, but that’s a couple hundred more words than I wrote yesterday.

Also, I’ve set myself a goal for my day off:

Saturday, I intend to finish formatting The Apex Mage. I will also complete the update on my website, and get the new version off my damn hard drive. It’s not doing anyone any good there, and the time is rapidly approaching when I need that sucker fully current and functional.

Oh, and by the way, because everything is online this year, I actually get to participate in Mile High Con! Yay for virtual author tables!

Randomness

personal, Random

I’ve been taking more writing classes again, and have come to the conclusion that I’m lazy. I keep whining to myself that I never get anything finished, yet I keep blowing off the daily writing thing. So I will now publicly embarrass myself by admitting it out loud: I play ESO when I should be writing!

There. I said it. Now to break the bad habit and start writing daily again.

Next bit of randomness: a smoky sunrise today. Never mind the dumpster, it insisted on being in the shot.

And the other bit of randomness: my camper got stolen. ūüėŅ All that’s left is the wood I had the tongue resting on.

Hall of the Lunar Champion

ESO Housing

The Hall of the Lunar Champion is a big home in Elsweyr. You get it from completing the main questline for the zone. Or at least, you get¬†part of it from the main quest. The big hall, to be exact. There are three portals, each of which is opened by a tablet, and each is obtained from quests or dungeons. The portals lead to a great big porch, an impressive courtyard, and a shed. That’s what I call it, anyway.

I have heard a ton of people complain about this house. They¬†hate it! They complain about the size, and how stupid the portals are, and how boring it is, and… I don’t get it. Let other people hate the place. I love it! I’ll confess, the shed was a disappointment at first, but it makes a damn fine crafting area. And decorating the hall was my first real foray into housing. I’d bought Twin Arches in Bangkorai already furnished, thinking that would be plenty house for me. But the great big free house in Elsweyr showed me how truly wrong I was. It became my primary residence, and is the only large place I’ve actually finished.

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

Like a doofus that couldn’t predict the future, I didn’t take many empty pics of the house. Why should I? I had no idea I’d become addicted to housing! I did get a couple empty shots of the Halls of Colossus, though, so you can see how bland it started before I went bonkers and turned it into an out-of-control garden and living space. There are also a couple of the Moongrave Fane space before it got filled up.

Oh, and by the way: I’m still a colossal weirdo. Despite being addicted to housing, I still and always run my game¬†naked. Vanilla. Bare of add-ons. So no, I can’t do any of the truly spectacular things that people with add-ons do.

Confessions of an ESO Housing Addict

ESO Housing

I haven’t had much chance to play around with my houses lately. Been too busy doing everything else under the sun. (Like work. And more work. And a whole crapload more work. No, I don’t get to stay home, I’m considered essential. Damn it.) But… just about as soon as a new one came available, I lost all self-control and bought it. So much for my “no new houses until finishing the ones I’ve got” plan. Also, so much for my “only buy new house if Princely Dawnlight Palace or Colossal Aldmeri Grotto come back” plan. Both got shot straight into the crapper, because I instantly fell in love with the new Thieves’ Oasis. Not to mention they were having a sale on crowns, so I could invest half my grocery money and get a good deal.

What? You think food is better than a new in-game house? Nope. No way.

Anyway, all blathering aside, what I discovered yesterday was that I kind of screwed up my intentions for this blog. I planned to have a nice, orderly series of pictures, showing each house as it progressed from empty to homelike. But I kind of forgot to organize the screenshots. Not to mention, I haven’t done any work on any houses since… January? I think? Until this weekend, at which point I noticed the mass of disorganized pics and chaotic piles of crap all over the unfinished houses.

When the hell did I get all those plants, anyway?

20200106193024_1.jpg

Big pile o’ chaos… and¬†plants

So. Starting afresh. I’ll plop some images down here, try to remember where they came from, and swear to organize myself better in the future. Quit laughing, you! I mean it!

20200406192238_1.jpg

Lights waiting to go into Lucky Cat Landing

20200213202852_1.jpg

Flaming dragon at Potentate’s Retreat

20200127154253_1.jpg

The balcony at Grand Psijic Villa, turning into a mage’s lair

20200126215034_1.jpg

Library at Grand Linchal Manor

20200406163416_1.jpg

And of course, kitties in the Sugar Bowl Suite!

Cat Counselor

personal

Lately I’ve been feeling a little grumpy. Well, maybe a lot grumpy. Working an awful lot, not enough money, the usual. I abandoned my NaNoWriMo project because it kept trying to reflect reality.

So this morning I was saying goodbye to my cats. Tasha blinked at me and gave me the cat look that says, “Whatever.” Goon, on the other hand, purred and gave me a wide-eyed happy look.

Right as I was thinking how nice it is to have a sweet, loving kitty, he pounced.

Whap!

Solid smack, both sides of my head. (No claws.) Totally cracked me up.

I’m not sure what that means, but it seems like a comment on life in general. Maybe I should learn from my kitten and give stress a double-handed smack upside the head.

One Year.

personal

One year ago today, I almost died. I had a big, fancy post all ready to share, complete with pictures, but I accidentaly deleted it through a series of unfortunate events.

Whatever. I’ll take that as the universe saying I don’t need to bore anyone by talking about the crap I went through. It wasn’t pretty, it was downright disgusting, and I survived. I will point out that the problem I lived with for six years is easily fixed by surgery, but I’m one of those people that falls in the “hole” in Obamacare. I make too much money to get a really good subsidy, not enough to afford a three to four hundred dollar a month payment on an insurance plan with a ridiculously high deductible. ($7500-8000, if you’re curious.) So I couldn’t afford the surgery.

Instead, I’ll bore you with something else. Normal people that have near-death experiences report things like bright lights, tunnels, beloved presences, encounters with divinity. I didn’t get any of that. Although I’ll admit I got ferociously dizzy, my vision got dim, and my brain got really stupid.

What did happen is I got pissed off. And I mean really, truly, deeply pissed off. This happened right about the time I saw the emergency room staff moving quickly, and multiply from one to about half a dozen, and it sunk in that they thought I was actually dying right there in front of them.

Weird feeling, by the way.

And while the ER staff was moving quickly, at a speed you never want to see in real life, I was feeling apologetic for troubling them when I didn’t feel half as shitty as I did back in January.

That was when I got pissed.

There I was, literally dying, and I’d been¬†working. Just like always. That’s most of what I do with my life, after all. Work, work, work. And I felt significantly better that day than I did back in January. I was able to take a couple days off back then, but my boss insisted I had to come in to groom some regular customers that no one else could do, so I tried. Even though I knew I wasn’t safe to drive, I drove. And I worked. And I groomed two dogs.

But then I called my boss and told her I don’t care how bad she needs me working,¬†I can’t do this and have to go home. Now, after the fact, I know why I was so dizzy I couldn’t stand or even see straight. The doctors called it acute anemia, said that I could have died.

And a couple weeks later, I was working with blood clots in my leg and my lungs, and more acute anemia. It was so bad I could feel my heart beating super-fast and erratic. I had to keep taking breaks to let the poor thing calm down before it actually exploded. When I finally got to the doctor, she said I could drop dead at any moment.

And I kept working, and working, and working.

Have you figured out why I got pissed yet? It’s because somewhere along the line, I kind of forgot that I swore I’d never work myself to death like my dad did. So I almost dropped dead, more times than I’ve mentioned here, at work. Doing exactly what I swore not to do.

At least I had the brains to call for help before my heart stopped because there wasn’t any blood left to pump. The doctor at the hospital told me I was almost there. The blood count I had was 5, she said hearts stop at around 4-4.5.

Screw that whole working myself to death thing. I’m pissed, and staying pissed, and using that anger and frustration to get my life sorted out so I can drop back to a more normal amount of work. It’ll take a couple years to clean up my situation so I can afford to stop this 50-60+ hour a week bullshit, but I’m going to do it. I will arrange my life so I can work a normal job, have a home of my own instead of a rental, and spend more time living. I am going to do things I enjoy, including getting out on the weekends to go hiking or find a horse to ride or¬†whatever. I’ve done that a few times already, and it’s a vast improvement over working.

In short, I’m going to take the second chance I was given, and do something a hell of a lot better than work.

Finally!

personal, Random

Something awesome finally happened last night. Ever since I had surgery a year ago, I’ve been trying to get back into bellydance. And… my body’s been stubbornly refusing to cooperate.

But last night, I was in the middle of thinking the usual this sucks, why even bother, I can’t dance, and suddenly my body said oh yeah! I know how to do this!

And I became a bellydancer again.

*does happy dance*

(I know. The picture has nothing to do with dancing. But the silly things make me happy.)

I confess…

personal
I have a confession to make. My conscience demands it.
Every weekend I try to do some extra cleaning. You know the kind, where you really, really clean something on a semi-regular basis in an effort to keep on top of it. Well, last week I did the kitchen, which was disgusting because I figured out I can’t even remember the last time I did it. (Valid excuse: I was sick as hell. When I finally felt strong enough to do something about it, the holidays attacked. I did it as soon as I could!)
Fine. So my kitchen’s clean now. The guilt from leaving it gross for so long doesn’t even begin to compare to what happened today, though.
I intended to do the bathroom. It’s gotten more attention than the kitchen, because it’s smaller and bathrooms get really nasty if you don’t clean ’em. But it wound up being the plants.
I started watering my plants this morning, only to discover that one of them had been knocked clean out of the window and turned upside down, coming to rest on top of the radiator, poor thing. (Wondering how that happened? I have a kitten.)
So I fished it out, set it up with some more dirt, and… I kept hearing these sad little plant-voices.
Stupid human, they were saying. She promised us a good home, they whispered, while I looked around for the source. She even said she’d give us a new pot last week!
And then I realized what happened.
A couple weeks ago, almost three actually, I ran across a bunch of herbs for sale pretty cheap. So I picked some up. Rosemary, thyme, and basil, to replace the rosemary and basil I accidentally murdered by leaving them outside on a night that was way too cold for them. I brought them home, promising them a nice new pot and regular water. You know, the good life for a plant.
But what really happened was I set the poor little buggers down with the other plants, forgot to repot them last weekend, forgot they even existed. I barely remembered to water anyone last week, because it was so busy at work.
And now here they were, all sad and dried out, but still hanging on to life. I immediately found them a new pot, got them into it, gave the poor things water and access to the grow-light. They’re now sitting beside me, all sorts of happy, standing up and singing a little¬†growgrowgrow song. Whew! Plant crisis averted.
And now, conscience clean, I can go on about the weekend. In other words, back to editing The Apex Mage.