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"It's a burritos and YouTube kinda night."

Serious depression there.

Yesterday ended up being sporadically busy and productive at work, and though I'm content when I get to be busy at the place, it generally tends to the sporadic side of the spectrum than otherwise.

Random "emergencies" popping up as a result of piss-poor planning and/or excessive foot-dragging, usually.

Which I'm find with helping to resolve.

But when my day is filled with waiting, the limited well of patience I've got remaining is severely tested.

And the unfortunate part of that is that by the time I left yesterday, it was legitimately only slightly longer than a regular work day.

Got home, took the girls out for a walk, sat down and tried to play Assassin's Creed: Origins. Graphics were terrible, controls were sluggish. Couldn't do it.

Tried God of War 3 Remastered. They shoved un-skippable credits in my face right from the get go, and I couldn't do that either.

Ended up resigning myself to a few homemade burritos and random YouTube before just going to bed.

Adulting sucks.

A year older, a year questionably wiser.

Took my traditional birthday leave last week.

It was glorious.

Copious amounts of alcohol and video games (Disney's Dreamlight Valley is surprisingly legit). Even had a taco dinner courtesy of the mother-in-law.

Though the day of the event, I woke up with a few notifications on my Apple Watch saying my heart rate had spiked above 120BPM while remaining sedentary.

And then again the next day.

...This could very well be the year I die.

Maybe.

In other news:

I got me a laser engraver.

Thing's also legit.

Assembly was straight forward, build quality is impressive, and is a testament to Chinese ingenuity.

...Test burn was off-center and had to be emergency-stopped because carpet was getting burnt.

Hooyah, lasers.

Managing people sucks.

Or at least, it's not for me.

I've recently discovered a game by the name of Cult of the Lamb. I have to thank the YouTube algorithms for slipping this one into my feed, otherwise I'd have never noticed it; but I'm thankful it did. And that I did. The art style is adorably wicked, and the mechanics are pretty polished. Only real gripe to begin with was that there'd occasionally be substantial bouts of lag as the particle effects on screen got out of hand.

Not game-breaking, just frustrating.

But as the (in-game) days crept on, I realized something: as much as I dislike being in charge of people in my day-to-day professional life, I absolutely abhor it in my personal life.

These little cultists with their little needs.

Their sometimes petty, odd little needs.

One of my dudes started spouting some heretical nonsense, and I had to scramble to deal with him lest he spoil the flock.

So, as with my professional life, I found things in-game to distract myself from their needs.

I ran back into the dungeons to mindlessly hack down monsters and gather them sweet, sweet loots.

I went fishing.

Back to the village to clean poops and pukes.

More sermons.

More fishing.

More dungeons.

All in all, despite my aversion to people management, I'm still enjoying Cult.

But I'm still just beginning; I'm sure something will happen to make me put it down.

We'll see.

In other news, I finally got back in the saddle, as it were. After a year of having avoided actively taking Zephyr out for rides, I got her started and commuted into work twice in the past week. What I discovered is that all my road-rage filled commutes in the CX-5 all but vanish on the bike.

Can't figure out why just yet, but I'll take it.

Two more work days, then a week of leave to celebrate another year of life (relatively) unscathed.

Deckplate leadership.

Aside from "shipmate", they're two of my least favorite words in the Navy vocabulary.

You have to be out there on them deckplates. Watching your folks, teaching them, making sure they don't do any wrong. Lifting them above their current station.

The problem with this particular approach—that I've seen—is that those that practice it end up doing so in great excess.

The people that you've been charged with leading may be covered (emphasis on "may"), but now you've essentially ghosted everyone else.

If you're too busy out there on them deckplates, how the hell am I supposed to find you?

Single best approach—in my somewhat humble opinion—is to check in with your folks in the morning, and throughout the day for spot checks as necessary. Check in again with them at the end.

Otherwise: Make sure they know where to find you. If you've got an office, plant your ass in that seat and knock out the tasking you've got assigned.

Forecast for tasks that regularly come down the pipe. Or may come down the pipe at some point.

That way, when we need to find you...

There. You. Are.

Please spay or neuter your dog.

Never thought that I'd catch myself saying—in any form—those particular words, but... here we are.

It started last Friday. I got home, and Kerri hadn't rushed downstairs with Pola to meet me like she usually does. Though I was able to coax her off the bed to come on the routine afternoon walk, she was a little sluggish.

Saturday it got worse, and she hadn't eaten anything since Friday.

Sunday was even worse, and still hadn't eaten anything. Her sluggishness turned into full-blown lethargy, and she had something wrong with her left eye. Upon closer inspection, it had gotten bloodshot and started getting cloudy.

As good, concerned parents do, we immediately began scouring the internet for possible causes. Primary concern was Lyme disease, and a lot of the symptoms matched up. The eye was a bit of an outlier, but I also noticed she had some swelling in her belly.

We managed to get her into the vet the next day, and after they ran some tests, it was determined that she had pyometra.

To be clear:

Kerri was in pain and close to death because of my stupidly ignorant stubbornness.

Why should we spay or neuter our pets, when there are billions of human beings on the planet that proliferate like sex-crazed rabbits?

Because. Your loved ones could die of a disease for no fucking reason.

Fortunately, the vets were skilled in their craft and managed to perform the required surgery to dig out her infected bits, and she was returned to us that day. Mandy was a champ, having stayed down there the entire time waiting.

Kerri was high as a kite for the rest of the night, as well as into the next day.

As of this morning, she's at what I'd consider to be 75%.

And improving.

So please.

Unless you've got a damn good reason not to, just... do it.