Hello, all! There were 253 posts when I started typing this and I wasn’t able to lurk at all this week, so I confess that I skipped ahead and have only read the past day’s content.
What an insanely busy work week it was. I’m still getting my arms around the project I had to start managing when one of my direct reports quit without notice (or notification) almost three weeks ago, but after several 10-hour days – and now that the move is done – I’m feeling better about my handle on it. Some of my “day job” tasks are necessarily slipping a bit, but I’m starting to see a light at the end of the tunnel…fingers crossed that it isn’t an oncoming train!
Speaking of work, a very cool thing happened on Tuesday: I became a plank owner! That doesn’t mean anything outside of the Navy, so here’s the Wikipedia explanation (in short, being a plank owner is an honor; and it isn’t common, especially for civilians). We’ve been standing up a new program since last spring, and it recently achieved its first major milestone: the customer handed out plank certificates to everyone who’d been significantly involved during the first six months. I was especially tickled to see that it was signed by VADM Wolfe, director of the entire organization/command we support, because his retirement was effective yesterday.
New-house-wise, the settling in continues. I have a handful of boxes left, all in the 3rd bedroom (which was the storage room in my old place), and I plan to tackle many – if not all – of them today. Yesterday morning the new couch was delivered, the locks were re-keyed, and someone came to align the garage-door-opener sensors and make some other adjustments. The remote both opens and closes the door now; I can actually park in my garage! 
I took yesterday afternoon off work and started bagging up the packing paper and breaking down the empty boxes, and in the evening I made a big dent in my Lego unpacking/unwrapping/displaying. It feels like the place is starting to come together. I’m hoping that by the end of next weekend I’ll be able to start just living here vs constantly unpacking and organizing.
I’m also nearly free of the old place: the gutters were cleaned a week ago, I cancelled the trash service (the bins will be picked up on Wednesday), and the final cleaning is scheduled for Friday. Once that’s done and I have the key back from the cleaners, I’ll schedule my move-out inspection. There’s a new tenant already and he wants to move in on the 27th, so I might be able to save four days of rent and utility payments; the property manager needs to let me know when that date is confirmed.
To address the OP, my regular medical care includes a bariatric nurse practitioner, a primary care doc, an optometrist, and a dentist. I take three prescription meds (two pills and an injection) and several supplements related to my bariatric surgery, plus three “extras” to combat the GI issues caused by the injection. I don’t line up my meds, but I do have all of the bottles and containers on a lazy susan in my kitchen: on weekdays when I go to the office I fill that day’s pill containers every morning. How many I take depends on the day, because there’s one supplement I only take every M/W/F: on those days it’s 7 pills and 3 fiber gummies in the morning, a pill and a calcium chew at midday, another chew and 3 more gummies in the mid-afternoon, and four pills in the evening. Typing it out that sounds like a lot, but my surgery was almost five years ago now and I’m used to it. 
Time to get to some replies, have lunch, and resume the unpacking. Although I knew/remembered that the top floor of a three-level townhouse would be challenging to keep cool in the summers, these 95-100°F days have been killers! Fans in every room make it bearable, but I’m glad it’s “only” 83 right now (with a forecasted high of just 87). I might move into the basement in August. 
Anyway, if unpacking doesn’t completely undo this morning’s shower I might also go to The Container Store today.
My mom used to tell me how her (100% Italian, 2nd-generation) father would always say that she could marry whoever she wanted as long as he wasn’t black or Irish. 
She and her brother both married Irish…and one of my cousins married a black man. Grandpa nearly boycotted that wedding, but several of us finally made him understand that if he skipped it – or acted badly – we’d never speak to him again. (He went, and actually behaved.)
My eyes aren’t blurry, your eyes are blurry!
Woo hoo! 
Ha! 
I kind of get that, but overall I think they suit you.
Awwwwww!