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You know that moment when you have come inside because your knee is telling you, "You can stop hauling compost now, or I can make you stop," and you take off your boots and make a cup of tea and sit down at the computer and realize that you have to go out again right now because there is a tiny tiny praying mantis on your arm? Yeah.

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Apr. 25th, 2011 07:46 pm
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It is three weeks for dreamwidth, so I am going to turn off crossposting after this. Which means that those of you who read me on LJ will notice no difference. Ha ha. You can still read me here and almost all my posts are public, but I am going to filter one thing because it's about my kid. If you want to read that, and you don't want a DW account, you can subscribe to me with an OpenID and I'll give you access.

There is a thing going on with my liver, which is almost certainly just NAFLD, or fatty liver disease, but I keep having tests that look a little anomalous and indicate more tests. Elevated liver enzymes. Abnormal liver texture. But no hepatitis, no cirrhosis, no signs of autoimmune disease. The latest thing was a 24-hour urine collection, because the liver biopsy made a suggestion of amyloidosis. That was a couple weeks ago, and I haven't heard anything about results, but my gastroenterologist said probably wouldn't make any difference in treatment anyway. So, treatment? Try really hard to lose some weight.

Librarything just got niftier. Now it tells me that my books take up almost 600 shelf-feet and weigh as much as 0.649 elephant.

Anyway, spring is springing and I have all kinds of energy and since I cannot carry any more 5-gallon buckets of soggy compost I am contemplating looking at some of the email I should have responded to a long time ago. Contemplating. Seriously contemplating.

Nope. Too scary. And I still have almost a truckful of soggy compost which isn't going to carry itself, you know.
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So cold here. So so cold. We have no snow, but school was canceled today and yesterday because it was too cold for kids to wait for buses. My thermostat is set at 61 and the furnace doesn't stop. From time to time it sounds like it is about to take a breather, but it always gets right back to work.

The dogs race out because they are stir-crazy, and then they race back in because it is so cold it hurts. I have to make them stay out long enough to pee. We'll just pee inside like you do, they suggest helpfully.

The city has expressed its displeasure with my pile of sticks again (not the same pile; that one got stomped down and covered with compost acceptably; but then I got a bunch more sticks) but I cannot fix it: it is too cold. And! it is totally the city's fault that I have all these sticks in the first place! They're the ones who demanded that I prune all the branches that were sticking out into the alley!

Well, the inspector gave me until a week from tomorrow to fix the problem. (It is funny how much I think I'd like her -- I think we'd like each other! -- if she were not working for the forces of "This is a neat street.") I still have mounds of compost at my husband's house which, if they are not frozen solid, I can haul down here and pile on the pile of sticks. There! I fixed it!

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