Creampuff Revolution

Creampuff Recap Part 3 of ?: The Panicking

Part 1 is here.

Part 2 is here.

So. We sold our townhouse. Half our stuff was in storage. We had 60 days before we legally had to vacate for the other lesbians. It was time for some high quality real estate pr0n.

The criteria for our new place included:

• Room for a 2-fat-person home office
• A big enough primary bedroom for two fat queens in a king bed
• A fenced yard, ideally with enough room to one day put in a pool
• A garage to park our 2006 Saturn Vue, Chloe (after 11 years of street parking, she deserved it)
• No more than a 20 minute drive from the fam
• Walkable to amenities, because I STILL DON'T DRIVE I KNOW I KNOW

Inventory was low, gang, and prices were high as fuck and time was ticking down to "homeless o'clock" real fast. We expanded the location. We upped our budget.

Every day we'd scour the listings, desperately trying to make fetch happen with any house that remotely fit our criteria and budget, even if the house was in the middle of the highway or had big boulders in the basement. (This isn't the one we saw but it was VERY SIMILAR.)

"It's near the grocery store!" we'd say "So what if there's a sinkhole in the yard, it'll be fun for Pumbaa!"

Work continued to be busy and actually going to Victoria to look at houses was tricky, timing-wise, but we finally booked a date with our realtor Jane to tour some contenders. The day before we were leaving, she called and said every house we'd planned to look at had already sold. HAHAHAHAHAHAHAAA blaaaaaarg 60 days tho

Thank goodness Jane was happy to FaceTime us through several houses. We love online shopping but there's nothing like having an actual human there to get a real sense of a place. We learned a lot during this process, such as:

• If your realtor takes one step in and says "This place smells like old people," don't buy the house.
  
  
• If the owner took out a wall and put in a support beam HIMSELF, without a permit, don't buy the house.
  
  
• If your realtor opens a closet and there's unexplained ductwork made of cardboard in there, don't buy the house.
  
  
• If the shower is so small that when your slim realtor gets into it, she says "Oh shit" and has trouble getting out, don't buy the house.
  
  
• If there's already a pool (yay!) but the property also includes a huge, abandoned-looking machinist shop and your realtor asks "What's in there?" and the other realtor makes this face:

Don't buy the house.

We put an offer on one house (the house in the picture at the top of this post) but wanted a home inspection (this was the support beam house, but in our defence, the layout was great and it was close to a mall).

The realtor used our offer to get the other buyers to up THEIR offer and they didn't ask for a home inspection or any other conditions, so they got it (I creeped this house while I was writing this post and it was sold again less than a year later for about $100,000 less than our rival buyers paid for it so hahaha SUCK IT.)

After more weeks of surfing the listings, we fell HARD for another house. The realtor video is still up, if you want to feast your eyes on this house we didn't get.

This one was a reach for us. To have ANY chance to get this place, we'd have to stretch to the barfy-times tippy-top of our budget. "If you really want this house," said Jane, "You could write a letter."

Letter-writing isn't really a thing here. And the idea of writing a cringe-y "please sell me your house in my budget, I feel a deep connection with your sunken living room" letter mades me want to scream pantsless while setting things on fire but we really wanted this house.

So I turned to my BFF Padu, because he and his partner Macr had not only written such a letter (it's a more common practice in Ontario) but had received such a letter when they bought a new house and sold their old house the previous spring and he kindly supplied me with both. I synthesized the two letters, added some personal details and a pic of our one-eyed rescue sharpei ("She was in a shelter in Korea for 18 months! She'd be so happy in your beautiful yard! BAAAARF I HATE MYSELF") and we made the offer.

Our realtor called and said "They loved your letter. But they have another offer. They want to know if you can go any higher."

We DEEPLY could not. So we didn't get the house.

But we found out later that the other offer was OVER $100,000 MORE THAN OURS and they still checked with us before going with the other offer! That's the power of the letter, gang.

We were about two weeks away from our move-out date. It was already November. Jane suggested maybe finding somewhere to rent in the interim. "There will be more on the market in the spring," she said soothingly, "your perfect place just isn't ready for you yet."

But the thing is...it WAS. And I had actually already seen it.

And now, a select 50X50 update:

5km walks: 3
French lessons: 2
Air fryer uses: 0
Meditation sessions but not while in bed trying to fall asleep: 1
Blog posts: 4

Creampuff Recap Part 2 of ?: The Packening

Part 1 is here.

Once we'd decided to move, things happened very quickly. Like, within a few days. We called our realtor, MJ, who came over and told us what all we needed to put in storage for staging and it turns out, it was half the fucking house.

Work was very busy and having to spend all our spare time packing seemed overwhelming.

That's where Debbie and Richard came in.

Folks, I'm going to let you in on a little secret: there are people out there in the world who LIKE TO ORGANIZE THINGS. And you can PAY THEM to help you.

I like things to BE ORGANIZED but I don't care to DO the organizing myself, because I am impulsive and indecisive and lack confidence in my own judgement, qualities which make me QUITE A CATCH and which have also intensified during this hallowed time of perimenopause.

So Katr found Debbie and Richard to help us pack and organize our stuff for storage. They were like magical Energizer bunnies in masks, packing Frog Boxes full of our books and games and kitchen shit and art and putting aside stuff for donation.

If you'd been to our home in Vancouver, I don't think you would have called it overly cluttered. It's not like we were hoarders. But once we started packing up, that place was like a fucking clown car, shit coming out of cupboards and from under beds and behind appliances just endlessly.

This process took us collectively 3 full days. And we had to call FrogBox and have them deliver more boxes. (I told MJ she should take a picture of the boxes for the listing, just to prove how much storage this place had. She declined.)

Debbie was very efficient and sort of put up with our jokes but Richard's other job was as a drag butler. That's right. He's a butler who takes care of drag performers. So he was used to dealing with fussy queens and also had a pleasingly courtly manner while he waited for me to make a determination about, say, where my Grade 7 drama trophy should go. That man was truly doing god's work.

Movers came and took all the boxes and probably a quarter of our furniture and put it in storage. We had a few minor repairs done, and some painting touch-ups by Jason from Port City Painting, HIGHLY RECOMMEND HIM. And then...it was time.

The house went on the market near the end of September. Surprisingly, you can still see the listing here. The photography made it look VERY BRIGHT, in reality it had more a "cozy cave" vibe.

In times gone by, we might have been able to find a house we liked BEFORE closing the sale of our place and either make our buying conditional on our selling or do something called "bridge financing", but not in the hectic market of September 2021, when it was considered outré to ask for a home inspection and très gauche to merely offer "asking". So we had to fully sell our house before we could afford to buy a new place.

This fact did not stop us from looking at the listings constantly and then becoming heartbroken when something we liked was bought within 48 hours. So we were thrilled when, after less than a week on the market, we got a good offer on the townhouse. "They're lesbians," MJ told us, "and they've really tipped their negotiating hand because they told me that finding this place was FATE. Apparently the street address is the same as their wedding date!" Oh lesbians...never change.

The other lesbians agreed to a 60-day closing, which we were sure would be ample time to find a new place in Victoria. Right? That's two whole months! No problem.

And now, a select 50x50 update:

• 5km walks: 2
• French podcasts listened to: 3
• "No dessert" days: 2 (white-knuckling that shit, tbh)
• Hours of knitting: 0
• Board game plays: 1

Creampuff Recap Part 1 of ?: We decided to move

I hate moving. As I wrote in 2010, the last time we moved, moving involves the four things I hate the most:

THINKING

PLANNING

BENDING

DOING

When COVID hit, it wasn't a huge lifestyle change for us (aside from the stomach-churning anxiety, obvs). We'd been working from home and avoiding most people since 2007 anyway. It's like we'd been training for this. I had even (weirdly) stocked up on toilet paper in December because there was a huge sale on my favourite toilet paper (I HAVE A FAVOURITE TOILET PAPER) at Safeway and I made Drtr go through the checkout separately so we could both max out our bumwad allotments. I was so excited I TOOK A PHOTO.

So when IT BEGAN, we hunkered down, missed seeing our friends and family in person, told ourselves we were "helping small business" by ordering in food (and tipping extravagantly) and followed all the rules. It's fine. We're fine.

My family (my parents, my brother Jaro and his partner Trsm and my aunt Suki) all live in Victoria. Even though we lived just a ferry ride away, we were all pretty busy and only saw each other 3-4 times a year in the Before Times. But in the During Times, we didn't see them at ALL because we weren't supposed to non-essentially travel and we are rule followers who follow rules.

Pretty much since we moved to Vancouver, we've made noises about moving to Vancouver Island EVENTUALLY. And when the vaccines started rolling out in the spring of 2021, I hadn't seen my family in almost a year and a half and we started idly talking about whether we should move NOW. And we came to the conclusion that we... should not.

We were still comfortable our townhouse. Six months after losing Effie, we'd adopted a one-eyed warthog from Korea.

Real estate prices seemed insane, because EVERYONE was moving. We decided that instead, we'd focus on feathering our current nest.

We installed a very handsome fence to keep inquisitive Pumbaa from escaping our tiny yard. We had big talks about making the laundry closet more functional. We both felt relieved. We weren't going to move. Thank fucking god.

At the beginning of August, we were all vaxxed up and one weekend Jaro and Trsm were in Vancouver! And my folks were going to swing by a day or two later! And we were SO EXCITED to see them IN 3D!

Our visit with Jaro and Trsm reminded us of how much we had missed seeing them. Because they're awesome and fun. They mentioned that they had been thinking of moving to somewhere else in their general neighbourhood and we were all just chatting away about real estate and moving. And suddenly, I had this moment where I was like "Oh. Shit. We're fucking moving. Now, like it's going to start now."

I kept this knowledge to myself. I thought perhaps it would pass. Maybe this sudden urge to go through the shitty shitty process of moving had been brought on by the delirium of seeing two of my favourite people after so long! After Jaro and Trsm had left that evening, Katr and I didn't talk about it.

But at 4am the following morning, Pumbaa woke us up with a loud puke-fest (she was fine) and in the aftermath, Katr and I were laying in bed, staring up at the ceiling fan and I said:

"So...I guess we're moving to Victoria."

And Katr said "Yep."

TO BE CONTINUED. LIKE ENDLESSLY, I HAVE 48 POSTS TO WRITE. 

And now, a select 50x50 update:

• 5km walks: 1
• Vegetarian meals: 1
• Pillows touched: 16 
• French lessons: 1
• Blog posts: 2

Creampuff's Year of 50 x 50

Bless me Father, for I have sinned...it's been 1,180 days since my last blog post on December 9, 2020.

I could make a lot of excuses about why I've let this blog languish for 3 years but honestly, who gives a wet shit? Few things annoy me more than people who blog about their blogging. Suffice to say I'm back at it now. Because today, I turn 49!!

Honestly, I'm thrilled to be 49. A lot of people don't make it this far. But I confess that 50 feels a little...daunting.

I thought that coming up with fun, slightly-self-improving things I could accomplish before I turned 50 would make it feel like even more of an achievement. A levelling up. A sort of "gamifying ageing", if you will.

My initial plan was to make a list of 50 things that I would do 50 times this year but you know what's a lot of things?

50.

This 50x50 idea is supposed to be aspirational but also realistic and also fun.

As of now, I only have 18 things and one of those things is "touch 50 pillows". But another one of those things is "write 50 blog posts", so here we are. I STILL PAY MONEY FOR THIS BLOG. It's not like it's some free thing that I stopped doing. It's like a gym membership that I never use.

So get ready for a year's worth of posts on such scintillating topics such as:

• We moved to Vancouver Island in 2021!
• Our dog Pumbaa!
• Trying to re-learn French!
• Being afraid of my air fryer!
• We put in a pool!
• Cults!
• How many pillows I've touched so far (6)!

Looking forward to this year of stepping into my wisdom (and not into piles of horse shit, we moved to a rural area).

Creampuff's 2020 Christmas Village

I'm not going to lie to you, folks - it was a challenge to get it up to get my village up for 2020.

Our sassy little wrinkle dog dying of a sudden illness in October and then a beloved member of my extended family passing away just this weekend were truly the thick layer of grief fondant on the layer cake of ass that was this year. But my village brings me joy and Katr cleared the bookshelves off for me and gave me a cool new background, so I put my urban planning hat on (it's a cloche) and got my shit together.

I kept the village small this year, gang - only one location. And it's mainly Department 56 Harry Potter village items. There's a theme this year and it's pretty subtle, so I hope you're able to pick up on it.

Gringott's Bank offers the two things we're all looking for in a bank - it protects your Galleons and believes in your basic human rights. We all roll our eyes a little when they have a float in the Pride Parade (fucking corporate rainbow washing) but still. 

"I. EAT. TERFS!!!!!"

Here we have Albus and Severus explaining how She Who Must Not Be Named just kept doubling down on her bullshit transphobic "logic" this year, just over and over, just digging herself deeper and deeper into a TERF-y hole and how she used her huge platform to say things that materially endangered the well being of trans people, and also about the plot of her latest book. Minerva, who is not on Twitter, is FUCKING APPALLED. Look at her WTF face. Masterful work by Department 56 here.

Lydia the Tea Monger serves the best tea in town. Be prepared for her to talk to you about her deep crush on Elliot Page. Mr. and Mrs. Barnes have been standing there for well nigh an hour.

Whether you're willow with a heart of unicorn hair or elm with a core of dragon heartstring, Ollivander's is a safe place to shop for the new wand you'll need after a year of cursing out You Know Who. 

Borgin and Burkes may be engage in unethical business practices, but they're not dipshits.

They welcome magical folk of all genders to peruse their cursed necklaces and weird collection of human bones.

Over at the Three Broomsticks, the Butterbeer is hot, the Fire Whiskey is cold and Madam Rosmerta has NO TIME FOR TRANSPHOBIC BULLSHIT.

Here, Ron mansplains the nuances of gender identity - badly - to an endlessly patient Hermione. Harry just nods - because Harry know what's up.

Breckinridge serves the best roasted chestnuts in town. Be prepared for them to talk to you about their deep crush on Elliot Page. Mrs. Turner and little Nan have been standing there for well nigh an hour.

Lily Brothers saw this coming.  And Jimmy at the newsstand wasn't sure he was going to put his flag up until his customer Mr. Collins stopped by one morning and tried to engage Jimmy in a conversation about "cancel culture". Jimmy got his flag from Madam Rosmerta, she had extra.

To be honest, Mrs. Crachit's not super sure what's going on around here this year. She's worried Buckbeak might try to eat her birds. Bob's late getting home from work again. But she made sure to hang this flag on her house because she has a lot of kids. And if one of them wants to tell her something...she wants them to know they can.

And that's it! I know that this holiday season will be rough for some of us and that most of us are missing seeing our families this year. I am sending you all lots of love. And I wish you all a cozy holiday season full of magic, snacks and great books by authors who don't endanger the lives of queer, non-binary and trans people with hateful rhetoric. Fuck TERFs!!

 

Creampuff Thinks You Do-Gooders Should Apply for this Free Yarn

I LOVE to knit but I am so sloooow at it that, when I do finish a project a year after starting it, I generally have a recipient in mind and they'd better be grateful or Katr will add them to her shitlist of people I'm not longer allowed to knit for.

But I know that there are many of you knitters out there who are both fast AND community-minded and you like to donate your time and yarn to a cause. And for you, there's an opportunity to snag (haha) some free yarn for your next charity project!

The good people at Yarn Canada (whom, you may recall, sent me some lovely Bernat yarn to review last year and I knit a giant snuggly baby blanket) are offering a chance to win some FREE YARN to you awesome knitters who knit for charitable causes.

If you like to knit hats for preemies in the NICU or scarves for folks who've found themselves homeless or if you're part of a knitting cabal who knit or crochet items to benefit others, this is for you!

I don't know if knitting sweaters for penguins counts but it's worth a shot.

Want to get your do-gooding mitts on some free yarn? Fill out the application by December 31, 2019.

As for me, I recently finished the ONE THING I knit this year but it's a holiday gift, so photos at this time. I know, it's disappointing, but you'll live. And maybe by the time I post those photos, I'll have finished a WHOLE OTHER THING! Shut up, it could happen!

 

Happy Birthday to Katr!

I wrote half of this post last year, on Kate's 50th birthday. It was an epic birthday, we had a big partay and I NEVER FINISHED IT.

In it, though, I was going to make her birthday about me by bragging about a couple of things I did to surprise her, so I'm finishing it now!

Happy birthday again, Katr!

As she mentioned in her groundbreaking guest post two weeks ago, Katr turns 50 today!!!

(again, this was last year, she's 51 this year, which is still cool)

One of the hardest things in the world to do is surprise Katr. There are a few reasons for this:

1. While Katr enjoys little surprises, she is not into BIG surprises. Like, for example, if you told her to expect a quiet evening at home and then threw her a surprise party, she would still love you and appreciate the effort you went to but please don't do that ever again.

2. We work together - from home - in the same room. So it is challenging to have clandestine phone conversations or even email or text conversations because we are both in each other's business constantly. 

3. I am bad at keeping secrets.

The last time I tried to surprise Katr was several years ago when she REALLY wanted a new iPad for Christmas. I told her that I thought it was a bit too pricey and maybe a little unnecessary and she sadly agreed with my practical statements. But OF COURSE I was going to surprise her with the iPad.

So I ordered it online WHEN SHE WAS IN THE SHOWER, so she wouldn't see what I was doing. I diverted all email from Apple to a folder in my email that I didn't open if she was in the room. I was so stealth about this thing that I thought about adding "stealth" to my list of skillz on LinkedIn.

As the delivery date approached, we were getting a lot of other Christmas present-style packages in the mail, so I was confident I could hide the iPad in the shuffle of other boxes from other places. And when the UPS truck pulled up and Katr came to the door with me because she was ALSO expecting a package from UPS, I wasn't concerned. 

The UPS guy came to the door with two boxes and saw us both waiting there. 

"I've got packages for Roro and for Katr," he said, "who should I start with?"

"Me! Roro!" I said, matching his jocular tone.

"Okay, Roro!" he said "LET'S START WITH THE IPAD."

Why???? Why would he DO that? Katr's face filled with delight which then quickly turned to concern as I had a FULL AND VERY REAL MELTDOWN at having my carefully planned surprise ruined by UPS.

I'm still angry about it.

For Katr's 50th,  I took her 50 year old Snoopy plush toy to a local bear hospital to be refurbished, a gift she CLAIMED was a huge surprise but which she actually inspired by saying "I should get Snoopy fixed!" a few months earlier. I wanted to do something totally unexpected. So when she mentioned that she wanted to have a guy come and do a video trivia night at her party, I thought it would be fun to sneak in a couple of trivia questions from...people she loves from the internet.

Katr loves board games and she is a huge fan grrrrl of board game walk-through duo, Anthony and Frances of Ant Lab Games. I am also a huge fan of them, ever since the infamous Anachrony incident of 2017 - it was their 3 hour walk-through that made the game possible. I messaged them on Facebook and asked if they would record themselves doing a trivia question. They could NOT have been nicer or more enthusiastic about it and this is what they sent:

Katr is also a huge fan of musician Christine Parker, partly thanks to her sweet music video Where You Are. She got my family hooked on Christine's music as well - and Christine had a Facebook page. You can guess what happened next:

Brian from Vancouver Trivia Party was SUPER into making this surprise happen and sneaked the questions into his trivia set. And when they came up on the screen, KATR WAS SURPRISED!!!!! And also pretty moved, as a fangrrrl should be. She is adorable. Also, she knew the answers to the trivia questions, which gave her a leg up in the game. HA ha!

Anyway, thanks, a year later, to Anthony and Frances and Christine Parker, for taking the time to make my 50th birthday surprise dreams come true. You are good, kind people. And happy 51st birthday, Katr!!! I am so happy you were born!!

 

Sharpei Saturday Moves to Friday One Time Only, Also It's About Sled Dogs

As I've discussed many times here before, I get obsessed with things fairly easily and find myself going down various rabbit holes in pursuit of said obsession, which is why I'm watching Nurse Jackie right now, because after Godless and Unbelievable, I've become obsessed with Merritt Wever.

BTW, if anyone knows of a supercut of Merritt Wever's Godless scenes set to Sarah McLachlan music, please send it my way; otherwise I might have to make it myself and I'm terrible at editing.

Also, BTW, Godless is very violent and upsetting and Unbelievable was EXCELLENT but very hard to watch, so I'm advising my parents not to watch them.

Anyway, back to dogs. I became interested in sled dogs watching the documentary Ice Town: Life on the Edge, which you may remember from the time I got obsessed with Svalbard. And when I say "interested" I mean "that seems like an interesting thing to do that I will never do, one dog is plenty for me".

But I got full on obsessed earlier this year when musher Blair Braverman posted the cutest Twitter thread of all time about which of her dogs might be taking on the Iditarod this year. Click on the tweet and real the WHOLE THREAD and look at ALL THE PICTURES, I WILL WAIT.

Right now, we have 20 dogs in training for the Iditarod—and 14 pups will enter the actual race. Allow me to introduce you to the BraverMountain Varsity Team.

— Blair Braverman (@BlairBraverman) January 2, 2019

I'm not going to lie. I am INTO these #UglyDogs and whenever Blair (or "Bler", as the dogs call her) posts about them, I am rapt. My favourites are Helli and Grinch, who can only run south.

I want to tell you a story about Grinch.

— Blair Braverman (@BlairBraverman) October 11, 2018

And I am still laughing about the thread entitled Surprise Bitch! It's Boudica! 

On our long run the other day, Boudica got tired after 30 miles and rode in the barkbox the rest of the way. The next morning, when I went out to the dog yard, she wouldn’t come out of her house. What’s up? I asked her. pic.twitter.com/JwEwV0TalQ

— Blair Braverman (@BlairBraverman) December 12, 2018

That's all for now, if you like dogs and progressive politics, you would do well to give Ms. Braverman a follow. And if you're looking for a quick start to your own obsession, someone more obsessed than I has created a page with links to all of Blair Braverman and her husband Quince Mountain's best Twitter threads, YOU'RE WELCOME.

Creampuff Clean Sweep

Back when we bought our place, we were very excited to have a second bedroom to use as our home office, because we work from home and in our old place, the office was the dining room, which made it hard to host dinners. This place was advertised as a "two bedroom plus den" but the "den" is the size of a walk-in closet. We affectionately refer to it as The Nook, or, during the holidays when I put up Christmas decorations in there, The Elf Nook.

We had dreams of turning The Nook into a craft room or a reading room as well as a guest room. But we get a lot of deliveries due to Katr's game obsession various reasons and this house has minimal storage and no garage, so it was handy to store empty boxes in The Nook until we got around to taking them to the recycling depot.

Back when Drtr lived with us, The Nook was his room, so we went to the recycle depot a LOT more often. But we haven't had a guest in the room for a few months and this time of year, a lot of boxes arrive and today we realized that Drtr is coming back for a holiday visit soon and the room looks like this:

It's like a hoarder's dream, you guys. Little boxes. Big boxes. Random sheets of paper. Take out bags from various Skip The Dishes orders. Some medical supplies I'm holding for a friend. 500 little padded envelopes. Bags of shredded paper.

My favourite is the cable boxes in the hutch at the back. We just upgraded to Shaw Blue Curve but didn't want to get rid of the old school PVR just in case and it's smart we didn't because Blue Curve sucks VERY HARD and we might have to switch back. Don't talk to Katr about this, she is ready to lose her shit.

Anyway, if you're like me, there's little that's more satisfying than a before and after shot, so today, Katr and I got the shitty scissors and broke down all the boxes and took them to the recycle depot. Here's the "after" shot of the Elf Nook - eat your heart out, Marie Kondo!

After the recycle depot, we went to the Home Depot, where I took a shot of Santa checking out some hot unicorn ass.

Creampuff's Cold Shoulder

As I've gotten older, I've become an increasingly delicate flower and let me tell you, it's a drag.

My latest physical complaint is that I have a repetitive stress injury in my right shoulder, presumably from using my right shoulder repetitively, and it BLOWS.

I've had it for so long now that I actually taught myself to use my computer mouse with my left hand and now at least once a quarter, Katr has to listen to my story about my grandfather and how he was ambidextrous and how clearly I have inherited his gift but only for mousing and using a knife at the dinner table.

I saw a physiotherapist years ago in Toronto, when the issue was more about my neck, and he gave me some helpful exercises to do, which I still occasionally do and my neck is still good. But the shoulder has flared up on and off for years. Generally, if I stretch regularly and don't spend too much time playing games on my devices, I could still write and work and knit and do yoga fatly, so I thought it was okay.  

This summer, though, I somehow crossed into a shoulder danger zone that I didn't even know existed and one morning I woke up and was just super fucked. I couldn't raise my right arm above the shoulder. It was like someone had slid a hot knife in there and then left it. And I fuckin' couldn't take an ibuprofen because my stomach is still super special. Naturally, I used my left arm a lot more, to compensate and then THAT shoulder started to betray me too and I felt like I was in that episode of The Tick where some villain removes everyone's arms and it's very hard to accomplish things.

As The Tick says at the end of that episode, "When evil is afoot and you don't have any arms, you've gotta use your head." So I did a lot of gentle stretching and minimal typing and hot packs and after a few days, my basic shoulder functions returned.

"Dang," I thought, "I should probably find a physiotherapist so that I learn some strategies to avoid this happening again!"

And then I waited for four months until things got rilly bad again and today I finally went to see a physiotherapist.

I picked the physiotherapist practice based on two main criteria: I could walk there and they had consistently good reviews on Google. I hadn't seen a lot of pictures of the place, though, and when I got there, I was a little taken aback. The office is just one big room. There was a little reception area. There was a little exercise area where an elderly lady was being coached through some squats. And then there were "treatment rooms", which were just very small curtained off areas with a chair and a massage table in them, like you were going to get a massage in the emergency room.

The receptionist led me into a "treatment room" and handed me a gown. As I sat there, in my sassy open-backed gown, listening to an elderly gentleman moan through his ultrasound treatment through the curtain about a foot away from me, I felt the lack of privacy might be too much for spoiled Roro. My last physiotherapist had a whole office to himself, with doors on it and everything. "Oh shit," I thought, starting to panic, "AM I TOO BOURGEOIS FOR THIS PHYSIOTHERAPIST'S OFFICE?"

And then Gina walked in and everything became okay.

Gina didn't mess around. I told her what the deal was. She poked my shoulder and said "Whoa. Okay. Let's start with...THE MACHINES." I kinda thought we'd chat and come up with a plan but fuck that shit. Gina IMMEDIATELY had a whole series of things happening and I forgot that I was 12 inches away from touching Mr. Morello as I got ultrasounded and lasered and hot packed and vibrated and massaged and instructed in some exercises with an elastic band. It was serious business. 

As I was leaving, exhausted and with the back of my head greasy with mineral oil because I didn't think to bring a hair tie, Gina printed out the exercises for me and showed me the one on the last page:

"See how, in the picture, this lady is standing on the band and putting her arms up in a V? Not you. You're going to hold the band and shrug your shoulders up and down."

She looked at me sternly and said: "You're not ready for the V."

She demonstrated the shrugging again, "We call this 'I', okay, so you're going to do 'I,I,I' - it's allll about you." 

Apparently I'm not ready for the V, you guys. But Gina said maybe next week.