Last night, I had some wine and watched some Christmas movies on streaming services (standouts: "A Timeless Christmas," in which a workaholic from 1903 winds a magic clock, is brought to the future, and learns the true meaning of Christmas, and "It's Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas" in which sci fi favs Tricia Helfer and Eric Mabius are mayors of two halves of a town that definitely is operating without a city council or any governmental oversight and they, too, somehow learn the true meaning of Christmas via a holiday decorating contest to impress a candle company). I'm getting better at managing the drains, and the output is decreasing (which is good. I want it to be very low by the time I go back for my office visit so I can get them taken out). I'm feeling pretty good, getting used to the weird muscle twitches in the surgery sites. I like the way it looks. It's never something I would have done without it being necessary, but I think it looks nice, and my hair is (sort of) growing back, and I can finally see what my partner has been saying this whole time (which is that I'm still cute, I'm still going to be cute). It's nice. It's going well. It's different, but I'm happy with it.
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