Sometimes self-care is dye, dogs, and deeply regretting going to the DMV.
Alright, listen. Illinois DMVs are like the bureaucratic version of Mothman sightings—rare, elusive, and somehow always blurry around the edges. Did I mention chaotic? Because somehow, there’s always some of that in there too. Monday, I had to be up at the ungodly hour of 6:30am, sitting in front of a digital control center like some kind of cryptid hacker, with five devices all fighting for a single appointment slot. By 6:35am, my phone, laptop, and every other glowing rectangle in my house were in full panic mode, but somehow, I managed to snag the last available spot for the day. Barely. I swear the DMV is run by trickster spirits who feed off my blood pressure.
Did they have their shit together? Nope, I think not. My appointment time was 12:20pm, and of course, in true DMV fashion, I was not seen, photographed, nor paid and out of there before 2pm. Why? Because it’s the DMV, and time moves differently there- of course, had I been there any moment passed the 12:20pm appointment slot, you best believe there would’ve been some kind of harsh consequences- most likely not seeing me, and having to keep going about this monotonous rigmarole. (Do you like that word? Rigmarole? It was my Word of the Day today, in my word of the day app on my phone.)
It’s been several days now, and I’m just now getting around to writing this because, my body has decided, once again, that it hates me. I’ve been plagued by the ever-present migraine, and I keep feeling like one of my ribs is out of place- however, I do see the rheumatologist tomorrow, so maybe something will come of that.
(Future Sky popping in to say that my Past Self was far too overconfident there- he, or rather his staff, gave me a hard time trying to tell me my appointment was the day before, to which it was not and I had the voicemail reminder proving it was not. Also, one hell of a blown vein- which, as it is now 5/19/25 that I’m popping in for this future update, I can tell you, 10-days later… is still fucking there. *insert cryptid screeching here*)
To cope, I’m dyeing my hair grape purple today, because nothing says “I’m clinging to the very shreds of my sanity” like going full cartoon villain with your hair color. My current shade has faded into this weird, sad brownish-red that looks like I left my head out in the sun too long, so it’s time for a dramatic refresh to appease the mental breakdown gods. -did I mention that I do not tan, or sun very well…? Yeah, lets not forget that part.
Oh, and speaking of chaos, I’m currently stalking the mailman like a cryptid in the brush, because Luna’s gorgeous new gear is supposed to arrive tomorrow. USPS Informed Delivery says it’s on its way, which means I’m practically vibrating with excitement. Any guesses on the color and theme of her new vest and harness system? (Hint: it’s very on-brand for us.) 👀🐶💀
Stay tuned for photos, because you know I’m going to be that obnoxious dog mom the second it shows up. How can I not? She is the BEST girl, after all.
💜 Stay strange, stay strong.
-Sky, The Crippled Cryptid
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