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I got a parking ticket when I went downtown to meet my sponsor last week. $39.

Downtown Seattle, the meter people are fucking fascists. This is not to say that this isn’t a valid ticket, because it totally is. That doesn’t mean I A) am happy about it or B) can afford it. $39 for 10 minutes of parking, because that’s how late I was.

I AM KILLING MYSELF WITH THIS SHIT.

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In other news, when the hell are they going to start making self cleaning clothes? Because I don’t need a fucking jet pack or a flying car, but self cleaning clothes would totally come in handy.

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Yeah, I totally did laundry today. Annoying, but at least I won’t have to go commando.

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There is no way to cook edible lentils in 30 minutes. Just not possible. Trust me on this.

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Goddamned cat keeps trying to eat my popcorn. Then acts all surprised when I throw him across the room. Stupid cat. I DO NOT SHARE MY POPCORN. Do I try to eat YOUR treats? No,  I do NOT.

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OK, that’s it. Go away now. GO ON. SHOO.

So I went to see my doctor today and found out that my good cholesterol has skyrocketed while my bad cholesterol has decreased.

I am hereby declaring myself the Valedictorian Of Cholesterol.

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I was a hair model for a class at the salon I frequent and I got a smoothing treatment and a haircut. I am now so awesome that I can barely stand myself.

No, really, it looks good. And it smells of Tootsie Rolls. For serious.

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Grant sent me a bar of bacon soap, since everyone knows that guys dig the smell of bacon. Between that and the hair cut, my hotness has become damn near unbearable.

Look out, world. Bacon scented Tracy is on the way.

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Also, Mixed Berry Yogurt Parfait from Trader Joe’s is my new crack. You have been warned.

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And now I am off to, well, I don’t know, watch cartoons, maybe? Yes, cartoons. SHUT UP.

So, I have been struggling recently.

Being sick sucks. Most of the time I manage to accept the fact that I am sick, that it is permanent, and this is my normal. But sometimes, I don’t.

Then I get frustrated, that even though I do all the stuff I am supposed to do, it doesn’t get any better. I don’t get any better. And the reality of the situation is, I will never get any better. Between the mental illness, the kidney failure, the rheumatoid arthritis: that stuff is all permanent. It can be managed, but it is never going away. I never get to go back to the way my life was before my kidneys failed.

And then it’s like I’m 13 again, and I get all rebellious, and decide that I’m not going to do stuff, especially not the stuff that is currently saving my life. Stupid, but there it is.

See, this acceptance stuff, it’s a process. There is no finish line, just a constant attempt to accept the reality that this is the way my life is and I need to make the best of it. This is my normal.

And mostly my life is good. I have friends, and family, I do fun stuff. Most days, I love my life. Most days, I am happy.

Not at the moment, though. I’m still kind of pissed about the whole being sick thing.

My niece, Eldest, asked me if I was sicker than I was supposed to be. I’m not, I’m just sicker than I want to be. And I need to continue working on being ok with that.

At least until I can replace most of my body parts with cybertronic equivalents.

So, two days ago I ran out of dry cat food, and Los Gatos have been acting like they have NEVER BEEN FED IN THEIR ENTIRE LIVES.

I fed them wet food twice a day, but they still howled and sat in the kitchen all day. In the morning, they circled me on the bed like loud, furry sharks, smacking me with their paws, and trying to sit on my head.

Then I got their dry food, put it out in bowls and they promptly ignored it.

I do not always like my cats.

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So, I sold my books, and got a great price for some of them, and a not very good at all price for the rest. And I am totally fine with that, because the point was to get rid of stuff. The money is just a bonus. You know, for tacos.

I like tacos.

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Grant sent me healing popcorn this week, because I read on WebMD that the cure for all my illnesses was bacon and cheddar popcorn, and everyone knows that they don’t put stuff on the internet that isn’t true.

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In other news, I have decided that my totally inability to be healthy in any sense of the word is no longer going to prevent me from dating. There are a lot of people in this world, fully half of them are men, and of those there is bound to be at least one who can not only handle my freakshow of medical issues but love me because of that.

I mean, statistically, it should work, right?

Dorian Gray was back in town, and I have made it my mission to show him one of my favorite restaurants each time he visits.It’s awesome that he is totally on board with Project Restaurant.

Last night we hit my fave Indian joint, and had a lovely dinner, then went for coffee at one of the fifty million places to have coffee in Seattle, although neither of us had actual coffee.

Apparently, the secret to DG’s youthful look is not bathing in virgin blood, as I have previously surmised, but hot green tea.

I had black tea, because any other kind of tea tastes like, I don’t know, plants and shit. SHUT UP, I know tea is a plant, I just don’t want the planty taste IN MY MOUTH.

Plus I am well known for my dislike of hot beverages, so my tea was iced.

It was, as always, awesome.