Powered by Jet Fuel and Spite

Powered by Jet Fuel and Spite

🌼 Date: Sunday, December 28, 2025

⚡ Energy: Steroid-powered, mildly feral, unstoppable

❤️‍🩹 Status: Productive, bald, wig-curious, still breathing

💖 Outlook: Getting shit done now, fully expecting to crash later

Today was Day 1 of steroids, which means my internal operating system rebooted without asking me and said, “We’re doing EVERYTHING. Right now.”

Also worth noting: I hadn’t even been out of bed for an hour this morning (yes, I had already roided up) when Casey looked at me and said, “You haven’t stopped talking since you got up… like, have you been lying in bed all night just thinking of all this stuff?”

Yup.
Exactly that.

Apparently, my brain spent the night running a full TED Talk rehearsal without my consent. So, buckle up, baby — you’ve got three days of this carnival ride to look forward to. And this is only Round 2. We’ve still got Round 3… then Round 4 ahead of us.

Yay us!!! 🎢😅

Did I do anything on the computer?
Absolutely not.
Could I sit down?
Also no.

But if you’ve got any home improvement projects, send them my way for the next two days because apparently, I am now powered by jet fuel and spite.

Here’s what did get done:

All the laundry.
Sheets and blankets washed and back on the bed — which felt especially important because up until yesterday, every time I pulled up the covers, I got a mouth full of my own hair floating off the blankets like some kind of chemo snow globe. Since the head shaving, I am happy to report that I am no longer shedding long enough strands to become airborne. Clean bedding felt ceremonial.

Then I hung the four framed pictures I had printed for Casey for Christmas.
There was math.
There was a tape measure.
There was a level.
There was a ladder.

It was a whole thing.

While Casey was trying to take a cat nap in his recliner, I decided that was the perfect time to purge my phone contacts.
Because obviously.

Three hours later, I had gone down a full memory-lane rabbit hole, deleting people, places, and businesses I have clearly outgrown. (No offense to Chuck E. Cheese, but I probably won’t be booking birthday parties there anymore. My youngest is 20.)

Once I was already emotionally invested, I figured I’d add profile pictures too. Because if you’re going to spiral, you might as well be thorough.

Then… the Amazon delivery arrived.

The blonde wig showed up.

Full disclosure: she’s more of an ombré — light brown on top, platinum blonde on the bottom — with a little curl. And I kind of love her. Even Casey said, “I thought I would hate it more.”
Progress is progress!

She needs a bang trim before her official debut, because I don’t know who is out here wearing bangs down past their nose, but it won’t be me. I’ll try to fix that tomorrow in between my plastics appointment and Round 2 of chemo.

Oh — and now that Nicholas has seen how all-in everyone went with the head shaving, he wants his shaved shorter than we did the other day. So add “family barber” back onto the list. Pics will be coming tomorrow night.

Also… the wigs need names.
You can’t just have unnamed personalities living in your house.

The red one is spicy. Latina energy.
Casey suggested Lola (or Lolita), which feels perfect because in high school dance team we competed to a song with the line: “Her name was Lola, she was a showgirl…” you all know the one, and you sang that line, didn’t you?

Nicholas thinks the blonde should be Stacey, which immediately triggered “Stacey’s mom has got it going on” in my head, so now I’m undecided.

We’ll settle this soon. Suggestions welcome.

Before I wrap this up, I want to say this clearly and lovingly:

👉 If you’ve been reading along and haven’t subscribed to the blog yet — please do.
I currently have seven subscribers (hi family, hi inner circle 💕), but with nearly 300 visitors, I know there are more of you out there. Subscribing just means you’ll get the posts delivered to you — no spam, no nonsense, just real life, one day at a time.

Okay.
Steroids are wearing off.
The crash is coming.
Tomorrow is chemo.

Still here.
Still standing.
Still doing the damn thing.

💗
— Tina
One Badass Day at a Time