Samantha, Jack & Lucy

I didn't think I was going to get to see Sinners before it left theaters, but D has found like one showing an evening this week so he and I went today! Sadly V wasn't feeling up to coming along, but otherwise it was great.

I enjoyed the hell out of the movie, if not as much as I would have at like 16 when I was obsessed with that music.

All the performances were so good, and I loved the soundtrack and it was just a joy to watch.

I told V that if they were up to it I'd happily go see it again with them tomorrow. I so badly want to Check on some things. (Also I saw it with no audio description so I'm certain I missed a ton of what's actually on the screen.)

As someone who, 99% of the time, has to listen to something (usually a familiar audiobook or podcast) to fall asleep, I am finally trying one of these Bluetooth sleep headband things that always get advertised to me.

My needs (or expectations) are not great here. Back in the days of rigid Walkman headphones with scratchy foam over the earphones I would fall asleep lying on my side with them digging in to my head.

But even so, this has been a success the last few nights. If a little warm for my hot head.

It's funny: it's clearly meant to be an eye mask too, but I can't stand not being able to see at least a little light when I open my eyes, so I actively dislike this. I'll wear it at an awkward angle, I don't mind! I hate the dark so much.

Unexpected benefit of this contraption is I can continue my habit of listening to a podcast (to get my hit of extrovert energy) while I'm getting dressed in the morning, without disturbing my sleeping boyfriend still in bed. (I know this would be true of any Bluetooth headset but I'm not used to them, plus the fabric fits the soft and cozy gentle start to the day that I'm always aiming for.)

My bedroom is even close enough to the bathroom that I can leave my phone next to my bed, go brush my teeth, and no interruption in me hearing strangers chat about baseball or whatever.

Can't tell if my biggest exercise achievement this evening is

1) the (new, temporary) instructor saying "that's the strongest plank ever!" about mine (plank is usually a weakness, all I normally hear is "Erik get your hips up!")
or
2) me absolutely booking it out of there the second our cooldown finished, knowing I only had a chance to make the bus if I hustled -- effectively addring ten minutes of cardio on top of the hour-long circuits session! -- and getting to the stop just as the bus did.

I was so wrecked by the time I got home though. Especially because the bus driver didn't let me off at the stop I wanted (I guess I stood up too late and despite getting to the front of the bus just after another person exited the bus and the doors were still open, he insisted on ignoring me!).

I was so tired that, when I went to eat the lovely dinner that my lovely boyfriend had made for us while I was out, I had to consciously think it's time to open my mouth, muscles! once my hand had brought the spoon full of chili and rice to my lips.

I did my split squats today and didn't hate them!

Split squats always get a groan when our trainer tells us to do them, no one likes them, but I've found them a particular trial during ankle recovery. They've so good for me that lunges (which are similar) were a formal part of my physiotherapy. But that also meant they were hard, no fun, and not terribly rewarding!

I've always been fortunate that my recovery hasn't featured a lot of pain, but that almost made it more difficult to monitor, and cope with, the intense weakness in that ankle (and the knock-on effects, like my already-atrocious balance somehow got (and remains) even worse?!).

Feeling okay until my leg just didn't hold me up properly can be unsettling!

I've patiently stuck with it, doing regular bodyweight lunges in circuits when other people are doing walking lunges with the biggest dumbbells available to us there (not very big, but still!) and having to tuck myself into the squat cage for split squats at lift club so I could hang on to the bars to keep my balance.

And now I can do (very slow, increasingly wobbly) walking lunges, and I can do split squats without hanging on to anything -- except a little kettlebell! And I might have to go up to the second-smallest size of kettlebell next time actually, I was thinking today.

It's nice to feel like I'm at about the level where I would have been starting if I hadn't broken my ankle almost immediately into taking up exercise as a hobby. I mean yes it'd be nice if it hadn't taken me a year and a half to get that far, but as with so many of the other changes in my body in the past year and a half, I try not to get caught up in what-ifs and wistful regret, and I think I am doing okay at that.

This morning, a friend shared a screenshot of a social media post that says

i am a simple goblin

all i want is for someone to pet my head

and feed me whatever i want for dinner

without having to figure out what that is

forever ✨

I read this, and thought D's gonna say "oh look it Erik" isn't he (he's convinced I'm a goblin; I don't get it), and before I could even type anything, he said "Oh you found Erik's alt."

I laughed and said "Actually I require many more things than this. I am a needy goblin."

I mean yes those things would be nice -- though lately I've been very particular about what I can eat for dinner, sigh - but I was stuck on "all I want." So I added, "My counselor keeps asking me what it'd take to make things feel less overwhelming/burnouty for me, and I have a big list." Which is true! It's a mental list, but only because I'm scared to write it down.

D asked "Are any of them actionable?"

I laughed differently and much more bitterly at this. The unfeasibility is why I'm scared to write any of it down.

I need a desk fan for the room I work in. V is kind enough to use their skills in online shopping for me, and ordered one the other day to arrive today.

So this afternoon they said "Oh, Erik, I think your fan is on the way," and I presume they got a text about it or whatever.

But a visiting friend heard this, no context, and said she thought they meant, like, an admirer of mine.

It'd be so funny if someone came around just because they liked me.

Meanwhile, I'm so unbelievably tempted to write "A fan of Erik" on the fan. It's in a room full of sharpies. I could so easily do this.

I think the most hashtag dadcore thing I've done lately is

• dig through all the pressured cans of spray we keep under a counter next to the washing machine
• to find something lubricating to put on the lawn mower
• because I haven't used it since last year so the axle was stuck solid
• spraying the stuff on said axle
• wondering "is it supposed to look like that?"
• and rubbing it in (really just steering it where it's supposed to go)
• while trying to read the back of the can to see if I should be touching this stuff with my skin

I'm fine, it's fine. (It did say to use it in a ventilated area and I had that sorted by being outside.)

By the time I came back in from mowing the lawn, I'd recently washed my hands like three times but my fingers still smelled like a synthetic lubricant and freshly-cut grass.

A combination of delightful smells if you ask me.