Sometimes it doesn't work out exactly right, so ... pivot

Both the men in my house (my housemates! lol) had rough days today. 

After a leisurely morning hanging out in the living room, I asked Doug if he wanted to go and do anything today. It was cloudy and dreary, a bit colder than they'd told us it would be so he said no. Okay. I'll get ready for the treadmill then. 

As I was getting my shoes on, he went to try and work on the light fixture in the bathroom. 

It has these 3 hangy-downy dealies, and only the middle one works. The other two flicker a bit, and then shut off. He thought it was the bulbs, but no. It's the fixture itself. Something is loose.

I need Doug to do things that are not this light fixture, to be honest. I need him to sort through 6 bags of clothes that he has schlepped from Massachusetts to half of Maryland. I would like him to caulk the inside of the bathtub so we don't get water dripping down into Geoff's bathroom and need a whole new ceiling down there or some shit. I need him to clean up the fucking walnuts he harvested and put in boxes in the carport, thus making it very easy for squirrels to just feast all winter long. I need these things to happen. Not the light fixture. 

But, Doug is gonna Doug. And if I ask him to do those other things he gets mad, and says he'll get to them.

So instead of getting to the things I would love to see done, he set to trying to fix the dumb light fixture. 

I got on the treadmill. I knew it was going to be chaos. I love him. I love him so very much, but he is not a fixer upper guy most of the time. And today the situation was on brand. 

Earbuds in, I could hear yelling. I thought to myself just ... let him rage or whatever. Keep going on the treadmill. Keep running. Keep running.... I got to my half hour mark and even went a little further just because of the song that was playing. When I came out, he was working with Geoff to get the breaker switched back on. 

His face said it all. 

"No luck?" I asked.

"I busted it. It's busted. Now we have to replace it." 

Okay, I'm not mad. Not mad at all.

I hate the light fixture. So not a big fan of it, so when he busted it (and was VERY angry about it) and he sat down to shop for a new one online, I said great. Go for it. 

So now, he can't find anything that has a full rectangular wall mount that he actually likes. He HATES them all. Running commentary about how shitty this one looks, "ooooOOOooOOOoo INDUSTRIAL CHARM!" He doesn't like clear glass covers and those are super popular right now. Industrial and clear orbs. 

Finally he finds stuff he likes, but. 

It's a small circle mount to the wall, not the big giant rectangle. 

"Oh, I like that," I say, very supportively. "But we're probably going to have to paint the ... bathroom wall. Right?" 

And he gets angry. The minute you try to do something, it turns into a full blown out of control project. So yeah, now he's extra mad as he buys the light fixture. 

"Yeah. That's gonna have to happen." 

So, okay. I'm okay with that too. I am not a big fan of the wall color in the bathroom. Heck, I'll even paint the bathroom. Heck, we have a handyman that will do it. I'm sure that Victor will do an amazing job. 

And yes, also do the grout dealie on the tub. 

But he's mad. He cheered up enough to suggest we take Toffee to the dog park. He asked if I wanted to go and I think he expected I would say no because I did the treadmill. 

But the sun had come out, it was warming up nicely, the gloom was lifting. So I agreed to go. We had a good time until all 9 dogs got into a fight. There was a male English Bulldog that kept trying to mount a very scared hound mix named Iris. She was trying to run away, other dogs came in pursuit, and Toffee. Well. She detects chaos and sayd "I'M IN!" and jumped in to fight with the bulldog. It was chaos. We made sure everyone was okay and I told Doug we needed to take Toffee home. Exhausting! 

Meanwhile, Geoff had picked a dinner to prepare for us from a cookbook, and he was prepped and wanting to make this for days. I told him he'd probably need my help, it was a complicated recipe. What was it? Chicken Croquets with diced ham. 

So while this looked complicated, I figured he could do it. He set to getting things ready, and ran out to the market to pick up the parsley because he had forgotten it the other day.

Doug (after buying the new light fixture) read the recipe and got really irritated. "Oh he is NOT. NO. He is not making this." I told him to relax - let Geoff try this out and if it doesn't work, it won't be the first time he made something that wasn't perfect. 

Personally, I like when Geoff gets adventurous and wants to cook something new. I get sick of chicken parm or cheesesteak. He's been branching out and doing all kinds of interesting things. Fried rice from scratch. Really amazing Southwestern creamy chicken soup. 

We worked on getting the mix all together, and when it came time to take the chilled meat out of the fridge and turn it into little balls of happiness...

Let's just say, something wasn't right. 

The croquets didn't hold together, they seemed dry and uncooperative. Also, we don't have a deep fryer, so he opted to use a frying pan with a lot of oil in it. Probably never got up to the right temperature. They fell apart almost instantly. 

I helped him get the food out of the frying pan and into a big bowl - it looked an absolute mess (smelled good though). I'm thinking that he didn't multiply up the butter and egg mixture, or something, because he had a LOT more meat product than what the recipe called for so I told him to math that out to "triple" what it was asking for. 

I asked if there was anything else we could have for dinner, and he threw the tongs at the sink and stormed off. 

Reminding him that sometimes things don't always work out, being mad isn't the best plan. I told him hey, you tried. This wasn't an easy recipe. I'm not mad. I'm proud of you for giving it a shot. But we do need dinner so what else is available.

He said chicken parm. Which made me laugh inside. "Sounds great. Chicken parm it is." 

"That's five hours of my life I won't get back." he says angrily. Indeed. The recipe as complicated. You had to do things, and chill things and then form these blobs of chicken and let them chill again. It was a long time. 

I wished indeed that it had worked out. Just like I wished indeed that Doug was able to fix the light fixture. 

Sometimes it doesn't work out exactly right, so.... pivot. 

I told Geoff maybe the stuff he made would be good re-fried and mixed with alfredo sauce over pasta? He seemed unsure. 

But I think that mix of stuff can be saved, and I'm willing to take a shot with it.. 

He made the chicken parm up, and threw it in the oven. He grabbed a beer, set the timer for 30 minutes, and went downstairs. 

Dinner turned out just fine with the pivot. 

Holy shit I did a lot of steps today. Funny how that works when you use the treadmill AND take the dog for a walk. Beyond Basics. 

Anyway, no pictures but not for lack of trying. Dogs are fast at the dog park. 

Digits below. 

 

digits

exercise: 12/12 hours. A day of walks. Treadmill run, 32 min/2.25 miles. To the dog park, 14 min/.6 mi. Home from the dog park, 19 minutes/.9 miles (3.75 miles total for the day's measurable exercise. 65 minutes). 15k+ steps by bedtime. 

blood glucose:

9am: 120
4:30pm: 103
11:30pm: 63* (tested 2x, both the same basically. rather low. Looking forward to testing in the morning. 

food & meds:
9am: jardiance+phentermine
1pm: met+glip; some chunks of ham from dicing up food for a recipe Geoff was working on
6:15pm: 2 chocolate chip cookies from Aldi
7pm: 1/2 a big slab of chicken parm (and it was damn good). 
7:30: met+glip
no alcohol