My brain is unhelpful

I don't know if I would have known a few days ago when I had met Shitlord exactly, but my brain felt the need to wake me up at about two this morning with a very definite "today is the ten year anniversary of when you met him".  So I spent much of the night lying awake being angry at my brain.

Otherwise the weirdness of the week involved dinner with my mother and her household, who had me over for dinner so she could show me where things were for housesitting her horrid little dogs.  It is the first time I have had dinner with my mother that wasn't part of some larger gathering in over a decade.

In fact, I am fairly certain it is the only time since I moved out of home that my mother has invited me for a meal that she hasn't also invited other people to.

The weirdness that comes of being volunteered to live in her house and keep her hellbeasts fed and entertained.

I am bad at dating and at life in general

So last weekend the rather over-built-up first meeting date thingee happened.

It was much awkwardness on both parts.

He stayed on the couch for the weekend.  We watched the released so far episodes of Agatha All Along, enjoying Disney+ while I have it.  And a few movies.  We ate too much snack food and talked a lot.

He shouted me a back and shoulder massage at The Rub in the Wall St mall - so all the touch I got all weekend was from a tiny Asian woman whose name I never got, elbowing me in the back.  I wasn't that convinced by it while it was happening, but it felt pretty good afterwards.  Who would have thought that I carry around a lot of tension?

On the Sunday morning he took me to Joe's Garage for cooked breakfast, which was nice.

Wednesday this week I had a flat inspection.  It went smoothly, the inspector was mostly distracted by my Lego and otherwise only checked the things his form demanded he check off.

Today on my way to see my new psychotherapist I saw my clinical psychologist from last year in the street and the expression on his face did not seem neutral, to the point that I suspect me may have read this blog at some point since I stopped seeing him and disagreed with my interpretation.  So that was a touch awkward, but gave me something to talk about.

Writing yesterday's entry reminded me that I was angry and led to a night of mostly not sleeping.

So helpful....

I would be less angry if I was less suspicious his whole excuse hadn't just been a lie to cover for his own lack of organisational skills.  As that was really what the evidence presented was strong suggesting.

Unpleasant phonecalls

Last week I had the unpleasant phone calls of my dental school postgrad student making impossible demands based on what I have to assume was intentional ignorance about diabetes to get out of the procedure he had already agreed to and said was fine when my HbA1c was significantly higher, but after it dropped it is now dangerously too high.  In fact for the procedure to go ahead I would have to drop it to significantly below the diagnostic threshold within four weeks....  Two things that made it very clear he had no idea what he was talking about, quoting a demanded figure that was ridiculously low and below what many non-diabetics have (and that if HbA1c was there with medical intervention was indeed confirm they did not have type II diabetes) and in a time span that shows he does understand how the HbA1c is measured.

Every appointment I had had with him I had liked him a little less as a person, but I had managed to maintain professional respect until the last couple where he was clearly stuffing me around by making appointments from a specific thing and then either doing some pointless follow-up and rebooking the thing or just straight up cancelling the appointment only minutes before (and once I was already at the dental school).  And then this.

Worst of all, I think this also ends me six or seven year waiting list wait, with the care I was waiting for not actually being done.

I expect better of the Otago School of Dentistry.  I don't know why, I have had decades of experience of them and they have often been fairly careless with their patients - the poor are so easy to replace.

This week's unpleasant phone call was my mother contacting me (as she has done only a handful of times all year) to bulldoze me into pet sitting for her awful little dogs. So much of her usual approach of misrepresenting the situation with fact that any amount of investigation would prove false, talking over me and talking like I had already agreed when I was trying to say no and then just bulldozing until the fact that I am a soft touch gave her a victory she didn't deserve.  And so I will be responsible for keeping alive dogs who hate me.  Fun.