I had already decided not to cook today, giving myself over to other issues like work, cleaning, and a doctor’s appointment with one of the ENTs.

Work? Did some, took care of some paperwork, etc. Never ends.

Cleaning? Not so much, because of work.

Doctor? Check. My appointment was at 2:30, I finally saw him around 3:30 or so. He didn’t like the way the tissue looked on the left side of my tongue, so took a couple of samples to be biopsied. He also didn’t like the fact that when he poked and prodded it, I couldn’t really feel it. I’m sure it’s more of the same as with the last biopsy, and he said as much, but better to be sure, I suppose. Both the biopsy samples were done without any numbing or anesthetic agents, which was a little interesting, but it wasn’t terribly painful and the bleeding stopped on its own after about 10 minutes or so with no cauterizing agents required. I have to go back in a week so he can have another look, we can talk about the biopsy, and so on. What a way to end the month.

Then, one of my sisters calls. She wants tilapia. No problem, says I, I’ll pick some up on my way back. And so I do, also picking up some grape tomatoes, some mushrooms and bleu cheese-stuffed olives for my mom, some more fresh mozzarella, and some other odds and ends. While I’m wandering about the store, I message my sister: would she like me to pan sear it and make that chile-lime butter again? She calls me, and says no, she wants it breaded (sort of) and baked, the way she does it. I suggest that she cook it, then, leaving me to work. Then the truth comes out: she didn’t really want to cook it. She wants me to do it, but her way, and fix the remainder of the meal as well. I pass. Instead, it’s a do it yourself sort of meal, with a family style serve yourself from the stove and counter, then sit down at the table: tilapia, lightly breaded but heavily seasoned and baked, corn on the cob, and salad. I had a bit of the fish and some corn. I tried some lettuce, but the taste is…off in some way that I can’t quite describe. I imagine if I were like one of the cats and ate grass or the houseplants, that the taste would be similar. It wasn’t completely unpleasant, but it was both hard to eat and tasted strangely, so no salad for me. I’m currently on my second serving of post-dinner ice cream, because I am just craving something sweet this evening for some reason.

Oh, and did I mention that I weighed myself and I’m at 112? Well, there we are. This is one of those rare times where you drop weight faster than you put it on – but I wouldn’t recommend the cancer diet to anyone, really. I’m sure as things settle down this will even out as well.

Tomorrow, no cooking, period. Since the painter we had lined up has bailed out, the next few days will be a painting frenzy to finish up the high points before the bash. I also have new mattresses arriving – and found out this evening that the movers lost one of the pieces of my bed frame, so that has to be addressed – and a speech therapy appointment in the afternoon. I need to start laying in supplies for the Big Bash. Oh, and work, of course, setting up a couple new servers, ordering several more, running payroll, and on and on. There is always too much to do and never enough time in a day.

With that, I’ve finished off the last of the ice cream, cleaned the kitchen, done some billing, and overall I’m just ready for a nap. Some days feel very productive. Today was not one of those days. Perhaps tomorrow will be better.