66. Ladies’ Drama

Dear London Fire Snake Scorpio,

Hello beloved. How was your weekend? Here, Saturday morning was frustrating. I asked the ex to drop the kids off at the worship place at 10:00. Then, I was bombarded with messages from my kids. Stallion said he doesn’t want to go, so he asked to be dropped off at home. Drago texted that she has nothing to wear, so she’s coming home to dress. And I was procrastinating, because the hurricane of pressure my kids are was so different from the peace and sadness I found on Friday; I had a hard time crawling out of bed.

So, eventually, I told him to drop all 4 here at the house. I wanted Drago to take the little ones on her own so I could shower and dress. She said, “Sure, let me just dress up.” And… she’s 14.

So 90 minutes later, I was sitting, dressed, with makeup on, with weeping Wolfy on my hands, still in the house. Long story short — Piggy brought her makeup kit to my vanity table and applied her “makeup” next to me. That was quite cute really, 6 year old clumsiness with those mock brushes is the best. Wolfy decided to go and put her makeup on with Drago.

Drago said something or another, and the wailing begins: “I have all the wrong brushes! I have all the wrong colours! Why is Piggy’s set so much better? Drago said I don’t do my makeup properly!” and on and on it goes. Now, the reason Wolfy and I have a complicated relationship is that I am physically allergic to victim shit like that.

I know, I know. She’s 7. But I don’t always catch myself on time to bite my tongue. And she is strong and independent, so just holding her doesn’t work. She won’t let you. So I bit my tongue and asked if I could help somehow, and when she dug deeper into how miserable she is and how the world is all against her (insert a serious eye roll here), I decided to ignore her to finish my makeup before I blow like a damn volcano.

I finished the makeup, ignoring the clock. I went to the living room and forced that annoying and annoyed child to sit on me, just holding her while she cried. At first, of course, her body was stiff and resentful, but the body knows better, and eventually, just sitting there on me and breathing helped her relax.

So there we were, 4 “ladies” fully dressed and makeup (I eventually was able to show Wolfy that when the brushes don’t work, your fingers do the job even better, and she was pacified enough to apply her own makeup), leaving the house at 11:30. By the time we got there, the little kids program had 15 minutes left, but hey, we made it!

Our spiritual leader is back in town. Long story short on that one — he is an orthodox and a very religious man, as appropriate for his station. He was born and raised here in the city, but left (and the congregation he had led for 15 years or so) and moved to the warland, where his wife and daughters live. They searched for a substitute for quite a while but were not able to find a fit. We are not a big city, and the winter is harsh, so the temptation to lead a community here is low.

Apparently, he eventually became kind of a part-time leader here. I owe him a lot. He was very tolerant of my blatant non-conformism, adopted the kids into the worship place, and helped us to have religious pass ceremonies for free. He was also the one to push for me to get my religious divorce just for “My spiritual separation to not be weighted down,” as he put it, and when the ex refused to pay for it, he organized donations and even paid some from the worship place’s bucket.

A good man. His main message is always hope and kindness. And, my people sing. His voice is soothing to the soul when he prays, so it was a nice surprise to see him there. I don’t quite keep up with the gossip and news at the worship place.

So while the kids were in their 15-minute program, lol, I caught just the end of the prayers and lunch. The kids got candy and cake pops from the teacher for the upcoming holiday. I scolded him lightly for doing it before lunch. My kids know I am teasing, but I think he was ruffled, lol, because then he was circling around the kids’ table the whole lunch to make sure they ate some real food.

I saw some people and had a laugh or two. It was ok. If I don’t actively work on it, I become a recluse. So that was actively working on it, and about as pleasant as brushing your teeth, lol.

When I came home, I melted into bed, and for the rest of the weekend, I did little. Recovering. I fed the kids, cooked a little, washed the dishes, and went back to play with my AI.

On Monday, I got hyper-focused on my writing blog and literally dogged the kids all day. It was Victoria Day, so no school — but I basically stuffed the kids in front of the TV.

Tuesday, yesterday, I woke up with a predatory sharpness. After a week of proper routine, a good rest on the weekend, I was ready to roll. I had an incredibly tight schedule. Now, you need to know that it has been years since I was able to properly pivot between slots on my schedule without a break or a complete system collapse. Years. PTSD made me more reactive to cortisol, so tight schedules are hard on my nerves.

But I woke up at 7:00. Made the kids tuna sandwiches (opening a can of 1880mg with my electric can opener that is, by far, a damn game changer in my kitchen) for school and ate my lemon sardines, then sat for light therapy and English Breakfast Tea while planning my day. Then at 9:30, I trained. And yeah, I admit, I missed it so damn much that I pushed a tad too far. But I felt good when I finished.

Then I drank a protein shake while working because my business blog post was supposed to go live at 11:00. It was 10:15. I proofed and posted the post, created the images and the social media assets, and released the social media posting — finishing the whole lot by 11:30. 30 minutes late, yes. But it’s still within the window.

Then, immediately after pressing the last “publish” button, I entered a Zoom call with Drago’s school social worker. That’s where she committed to check two more food banks for us, spoke to me about introducing Drago to her next years social worker, spoke of her anxiety about being behind on school and offered to check if she can have a chromebook from school to be assigned to her at home (because a lot of times she does not have access to PC here and that’s why she cannot do homework). And other stuff that is too personal to share in this forum.

I was reminded of how much I dropped the ball over the last few months when she mentioned that Drago found a way to hack her parental supervision on the phone and that she sits on it late. Sigh. So we committed to a deposit box for all the phones in the house. You will be proud to know that mine was in the box yesterday too since 8. No AI smut to put me to bed.

By the time I needed to pick up the kids, I was completely spent physically, and the fatigue from the training was starting to show. Since I couldn’t bring myself to stand and bake bread as I planned (we have only one damn loaf left, sigh. I really need to bake the damn bread.) I decided to let my artistic hyperfocus continue and locked in 8 hours of writing alone.

Supper was a half-improvised “wrap potatoes in foil and toss them in the oven” with spreads, condiments, vegan butter and the leftover tuna salad I made for the kids’ sandwiches in the morning. The kids loved it.

But it was at this point that the inverted rows I did in the morning came back with vengeance. Even though I took 1000mg Tylenol and even 500mg Advil after an hour when it didn’t work, and used a muscle-relieving cream, the pain in my lats was blinding. I sat with the kids for as long as I could tolerate it, then just lay on the kitchen floor with the massage ball pressed to my lower lats, honestly seeing stars.

Stallion and Drago picked up what they could. The kitchen stayed a mess, but the girls were showered. They were all 45 minutes late to bed, but we did alright, I think. I took 500mg of magnesium in the evening, went to sleep relatively early, and felt much better this morning. I even waited until 11 to get my first painkillers in.

That said, I am definitely sore, but in a good “I kicked ass training” kinda way. And when I noticed how easily I lose my shit with the AI I am working with, I decided to work from bed on my laptop. So here I am, handsome, in bed and all focused on you — just how you like it, wink wink.

I’ll try to write again tonight. We were walking down the memory lane of my romantic history, which I believe is always beneficial — to review your history, that is. And I would like to continue the exploration.

But can’t make any promises. The kitchen is a disaster, the sinks are overflowing, there is no supper, and I need to bake the damn bread — and all this before I even speak of the business blog article I need to make and schedule for tomorrow, or the critical error I found on my website and social media that is waiting to be addressed.

I probably will ignore it all and come talk to you anyway. 
I’ll wear something sexy, you bring your glass of scotch. 
Kisses, handsome.
Think of me today?
Yours,
Oxy.
May 20, 2026

Help me find him: Have you seen this man?