It’s been real, y’all.

[+] Work. Most of my students dropped classes toward the end of the quarter, so I had a soft finish to Winter Quarter. I still slept through most of Spring Break, so the quarter definitely wore me out. I was online last week, so my students started up in earnest this week.

[+] Health. I went to Urgent Care for a UTI on Tuesday, but my UA was clear. I was definitely in pain and it was in the spot for diverticulosis, so my grand prize was lab work and a CT scan. (Just a head’s up to anyone local: the Comprehensive Imaging Center on Division Street is freaking *AWESOME* and got me worked in super fast.) I still feel like crap, and I slept for seven hours straight yesterday, which was very likely me sleeping off a fever because I was completely dead to the world during that time. I pre-emptively canceled out of choir practice tonight, and I’m going to start taking a fiber supplement to try and keep things from getting bad enough to send me to the ER.

[+] Cats. For those who have been reading this blog for long enough, you’ll know that I had a tabby patch monster named Freya while I was married. We had her from the time she was a teacup kitten, and she was a fuzzy little pitbull. Sadly, I couldn’t take her when I left my marriage in October 2015, so she stayed with my former in-laws. (They treat their cats like royalty, so this was a good arrangement.) My former mother-in-law kept me updated on her, and she sent me pictures to make sure I knew that Freya was in good hands. The little monster became my father-in-law’s guard kitty (because she loves men), and she even stared down some paramedics to keep them from taking him away. (My former mother-in-law had to close her off in another room and incurred Freya’s wrath. I had to talk to Jon about something that day, and I started the conversation with the words, “DO YOU *KNOW* WHAT YOUR CAT DID?!?!?”)

Anyway, I got a text from my former mother-in-law on Tuesday letting me know that Freya had headed to Valhalla (where all Viking warrior princesses go) and had died in her arms at the vet at the ripe old age of 19. Many tears were shed, but I know that Freya had a good life with lots of love.