Dreamy New Year's Eve in Canada

It was pretty great. Quiet. Read books, watched interesting things, listened to thoughtful and humorous ideas, used blankets, exercised and iced, attended my church from afar, listened to music, and had some tasty food. Also, the last of the absolutely disgusting peach kombucha that is technically good for me. Seemed appropriate to finish off the year with a grimace and some smiles. 

Also, it snowed, and I didn't have to go outside!

So glad I found a place that has amazing bao and scallion pancakes. Sesame ball and pumpkin cake with red bean paste were also tasty.

Hope you sent the year off with finality and cheer. 

Well, we tried! Books it is! And a mug that reminds you of your mortality every time you use it!

There was less work for me to do over the break, so after several days of walking the neighborhood and reading and watching stuff and reading and exercising (too much because I got distracted by reading), I decided to plan ahead. From this (fictionalized) discussion: 

ME: So! We have done a LOT of reading! We have more days off during the week. We could go do something different! We could . . . watch a movie! 

ALSO ME: Book?  (Translation: There are several more books that we would like to read before the end of year for no really good reason.)

ME: There are some movies that would be great to watch in theaters! Let's look up the times and right them down. (Researches and records.) See?

AM: Book.  (Translation: Already saw the one we really didn't want to miss *The Boy and the Heron*.)

ME: Yes, books are great! We are sure reading some fun books! But we could also do something that we can't do when we're working on weekdays. It would be a good variety! 

AM: Book.  (Translation: There are people out there.  And weather.  And our rediscovered green coat has a vendetta with Midori our green knee brace.)

ME: Sigh. I know you don't feel like doing it now, but won't you regret it if you miss the chance to see these in theaters for lower cost and less people present than weekends? 

AM: Book.  (Translation: You have a good point there, but I'm pretty sure I will really be glad to finish this series before I have to go back to work and be productive and NOT read books all the time.)

ME: Books will still be there after break! Movies won't! Be reasonable! We don't want to read all the books now, or we'll run out of the books we're looking forward to and then be sad. 

AM: Book.  (Translation: I am pretty sure there are more books out there.  We could read them then.)

ME: Fine. It's not like there's a bad choice here. (Settles in to read books.)

AM: I regret nothing. 

I did also go get a haircut and schedule a dentist appointment and wander around downtown. Bought some berries and samosa and hot chocolate and tea at the tea shop 3 blocks away.  (I have enjoyed this warm winter weather for outdoor walks without worry about slipping and hurting myself again.) 

And at the tea shop, I was able to rectify my lack of a good warm beverage mug. (None of them made the triage cut to fit in the suitcases, and the ones provided in the unit are all incredibly subpar and small.)

You will be unsurprised to know that I did not purchase a mug with pastel flowers and grasses or bold art prints or fancy patterns. Or any of the mugs that might be considered normal. How could I when this was on the shelf calling to me, microwave and dishwasher safe, and with an instruction video? 

I regret nothing. About the tea cup or the berries. But I did walk too much, so extra ice for me while I read more books!

If you had vacation days / off, what did you do? 

The Raincoat

While I was visiting my parents and family briefly for the holidays, my mom directed me to a particular closet where she thought some of the coats that had ended up might be mine.

Once upon a time, I had moved to Minnesota for graduate school when my parents left the home I spent most of my childhood in to move to a new place.  I think I was still working at Borders (minimum wage-type customer service job), so no way could I afford to go home and pack or help or anything.  Some important things got thrown away, but many things ended up in bins in the basement of the new house.  When I visited the new house, I was looking for some coats that I thought I could bring to Minnesota with me, and they were nowhere to be found.

It was a great mystery.  Where did the coats go?  Nobody knew.  We eventually figured they must have gone to Goodwill by accident, so probably someone was enjoying them out in the world.

Fast forward nearly two decades.  They mysteriously appeared in this basement closet we had all looked through multiple times, including when my sister living at home left, at which point it was completely cleaned out.

Yet here were these coats I had not seen since 2003.

I cannot tell you how little room I had in my luggage.  I had checked a bag with my carry on inside, so I could pick up stuff I had shipped to my parents house, so I could bring it back to Canada because it didn't exist in Canada / I hadn't had room in my luggage when I moved to Canada.

But it had rained almost constantly and, when it wasn't raining, the wind cut through my fall coat like it wasn't even there.  I could sure use some sort of wind-proof coat.

And there, in the closet, was a MASSIVE green raincoat.  The lining inside was red plaid.  There was a tear in the lining by one of the pockets, and one of the snaps had come off and was in the pocket.  And I suddenly felt like this must have been the coat that I wore in Oxford when I studied there in 1999.  I had this visceral series of memories.  I remembered how careful I had to be with the snaps after that first one came off in my hands and how irritated I was when the coat tore by the pocket (so early on).  I remembered how overheated I would get when I walked the two miles from my lodging to the CMRS building for classes in the rain, how I would feel like I was steaming when I stepped into the shop to get a tiny quiche Lorraine for breakfast, how hard it was to wrestle my backpack on over the stiff, waterproof plastic.  I could almost hear the inevitable "Blue" as I ducked through the mall to get to the semi-hidden entrance.  That song played everywhere all the time that autumn.

And I honestly have no idea if any of these memories are true.  I don't have access to my pictures while I'min Canada, but even if I did, I had a regular camera and selfies weren't a thing, so I have no idea if there is any photographic evidence anywhere of my coat choices.  It could have been my sister's coat, and I could have made all those things up.  But if it was true, it went with me on my last, long-term other-country adventure, and it felt a bit like destiny for it to suddenly turn up after decades of disappearance right at the moment when I was on a long-term other-country adventure.

The coat was huge and far too hot, but I decided I could wear it on the plane and cram my autumn jacket in the 2 inches remaining in the suitcase.  Which was, of course, overweight.

The coat is still a little too hot and stuffy, as it was made of cheap materials before "breathability" was a thing, but it is perfect for going out for a walk in the rain or the wind and covers my knee brace, so people stare at it less.  (It also somehow has a blood feud with said knee brace and manages to somehow rip one of the strong velcro straps off its place to catch on the lining, and the lining collects on all the exposed velcro like pet hair.) 

And, yes, it does match my hair.  #Destiny

How do I use this stove, are all bowls in Canada square, and other miscellaneous adventures

The stove has 5 burners but only 4 knobs, and all the labels have worn off.  I did find the instructions for how to use the oven, though!  No helpful diagrams or info about the stovetop in those instructions.  Here are some pictures with captions for your enjoyment.

Followed the directions here and waited 30 minutes.  Instead of taking these signs down and changing all the signage pointing here, they have this note at the bottom that probably means something to people who have been here before and don't need the signs.  Eventually got most of the groceries, though even that was a disaster because they were all new and gave me things I didn't order and didn't give me things I did, so the time-saving process of using order ahead took about 2 hours.  : D

This is the only place there is to put clothes.  I guess people don't have drawers or clothes here in Canada?

The sink is not attached to the counter.  It's being held up by the plumbing underneath!  It will take 10 days to get access to the kitchen sink!

This is the office desk setup.  I don't know about you, but I love having to stare at my own face in a mirror while I work!  Who wouldn't?!  : D

All of my dishes are square.  My brain cannot deal with this. Why?!  Is this a Canadian Thing?  Spoons fail.

I can't get my plugs in.  There's something in all the outlets that makes it nearly impossible to jam them in there.  Hoping they don't get bent too badly or cause some sort of weird electrical incident.  I kept trying to talk to them about it, but THAT was a nightmare saga of doom.  We'll just cross our fingers, shall we?

One of my colleagues brought these for me when I marveled that our site does not provide cups, plates or silverware for us to use here, the way it does at my home site.  : D  Welcome gifts from Canada!

I am having a great time traveling to see my family, why do you ask?

If you are a dog in this airport, have we got a treat for YOU!  #OhCanada

Hold Me, Jesus

"Hold Me, Jesus" by Rich Mullins

When things fell apart for me at work last year, I can only describe it as running into an invisible wall.  Like I was just sort of frolicking along (metaphorically) at a good clip and then all of a sudden, WHAM.  All momentum smashed into a wall I hadn't even known was there and then slid down in a semi-comical smear.

Maybe a bit like that, truck-kun.

While dealing with a lot of nearly incandescent rage and grief in the aftermath, I also still did work.  Maybe not as well as I had been, but we got all the things done, and most people likely didn't even know I was having such a rough time.  I did my best to protect those not involved from experiencing that anger and loss. 

But I was (and still am) really stalled out.  I thought I would spend the rest of my career in that place with that department doing those things I spent 13 painstaking years building up expertise in despite the brain fog and the pain and the imposter syndrome.  And now that feels completely gone, like that entire path on the other side of the wall has just been obliterated.  So it's not about picking up the pieces and healing and climbing over and carrying on.  It's about something completely different.  It's about figuring out what's next when everything I thought was next is gone.  It's about facing the truth and figuring out who and how to trust.  

My leadership made choices that, in the end, sabotaged my career and led me to smash into that wall.

How am I supposed to trust them going forward?  How am I supposed to trust ANY leadership to help me accomplish my goals?  SHOULD I even try?

My leadership seemed nice and like they cared about me as a person, and that's important when you're dealing with as much disability as I am.  I know that.  I am grateful.  And they've let me do some great stuff with a multi-site impact.  

But their job is also to help me reach my career goals, and they did the opposite.  

Not out of malice; just out of incompetence.

But that makes it worse, in some ways.  

Maybe it's my fault for trying to get promoted despite all the physical headwinds.  Maybe I lost sight of the fact that my goal was to do work I liked, make a certain amount of money, and then cut back to 4 days a week in an attempt to lengthen the amount of time I will be physically capable of working (maybe even until retirement age).  Maybe my hope that since I seemed to be really successfully doing the next level of work I might have a chance to get that impossible promotion if it ever came was my downfall.  Maybe . . .

And maybe what I had wasn't hope but optimism.

Maybe . . . 

All I know is right now I'm definitely in that place where I need Jesus to be my Prince of Peace, not just King of My Glory.

And no lie, as I typed that, the next song on the randomized playlist was Hold Me Jesus by Rich Mullins from his A Liturgy, A Legacy, A Ragamuffin Band Album where it holds the place of the Dona Nobis Pacem in the Liturgy.  I was planning this post around that song, but that kind of coincidence feels like an invisible hug helping me hold it together after such a hard fall.

And now I'm crying.  And not out of rage.  As long as I don't poke at the details too much, the rage has mostly gone.  Honestly, it was just gone as soon as I moved in here for the year.  It was almost magical.  Sometimes running away is exactly the right thing to do, and even when it's not, it's good to know Jesus is holding me.

Driving a Toaster with a Shark Fin with Welded Keys

So I am driving what my mom refers to as a toaster.  It has a shark fin on the top.  It wasn't cleaned between uses, but don't worry, they included two sets of keys in case I lose one.  And then welded them together.

***pic here***

I'm glad I picked this one mostly because it's the only one that could possibly have fit all my luggage.  I literally don't know what I would have done if I had to take one of the tiny sedans left (even though we'd reserved something bigger).

Our initial introduction was rocky.  I had written down directions from the airport to my lodgings, but I had also purchased magic international credits for my phone, and I was willing to use them to navigate me there.  They seemed to be working for the first half of the trip, and then they started taking me in circles, and I realized I couldn't access the map navigation software.

So, like any brain-fogged, travel weary person who found out she was leaving the country the day before and stayed up until 3 packing and then had to get up at 5 to get ready to leave, I drove around for 2 and a half hours until I found it.  I didn't stop at a gas station to ask for directions or a map or any sane thing.  I went out like a detective with a few street names as clues and no concept of how large the area is or how wrong it could have gone. 

And I found it. 

Instead of feeling triumph, I just felt so tired.  And not up for dealing with the after hours concierge security people who did not understand me when I said the exact words my paperwork told me to say.  Thank God for the lady who was just there to pick up a package and talked both sides through until they figured out what I was asking for and handed me my welcome envelope and keys and none of the other things I was expecting.  No map of the building or information about it.  

They gave me some incomprehensible directions about parking (the lady helped explain again), and I found out that my parking space, while not actually as far from the entrance as possible, was 7 spaces from being as far away from the entrance as possible.  I'm on the lowest level (level 5), and anyone who gets motion sick of claustrophobic should just wait at the entrance for me to pick them up.  In 10 minutes.

There was one of those cursed luggage carts that moves based on physical laws from some other universe, and I only broke one toe getting everything up to my unit.  I broke many rules about swearing, I am sure.

And then I was in the unit, and there was a festive bag full of vital things for new residents.  There were 

• 3 bags of popcorn products
• two large bottles of water (which I should have taken as a sign that the tap water was undrinkable for taste reasons despite my research saying otherwise)
• 2 dishwasher pods
• 1 tiny adorable bottle of dish soap
• 1 sponge
• A ribbon tying the handles together that I couldn't untie
• A welcome letter with some of the missing information but still no map or tour of the building
• A container of nescafe packets and sugar and cream packets (which I immediately imagined being used as currency in the building like cigarettes in prison movies)

Welcome home!  For an indeterminate period of time.

What to Write on My Hand

One of the great chores for my physical therapist as I got ready to leave has had nothing to do with PT.  She was instrumental in PT things like trying to get this left foot problem to calm the &W@* down, testing the walking cast (what a disaster that was), helping me determine that any kind of walking aid would cause terrible problems (and thus helping me decide that the walking cast is seriously a last resort), and helping me realize I need to do things like get the straps on my knee brace changed and try out the compression top to keep the shoulder in place.  But so much more of what she was doing was helping me plan not to destroy myself.

We've talked through what to wear to the airport: All the braces, seriously ALL of them.

We had a hard conversation about why I have trouble asking for the help I should at the airport: It somehow all comes down to pride and brain fog, in the end.

I made her cry (in sympathy) when I asked her why it's so hard for me to do things that are better for me, and she flat out said, "It's because you don't want to be disabled, but you are."  And she's right.  She's still right.  I still HATE it and will do myself harm for weeks just to prove (to whom?) that I can (when I really shouldn't).

We've talked through all the scenarios.  I will be ready early.  I will get to the airport with extra time.  I WILL wear all the braces (yes, including the neck one and the shoulder one and the wrist ones).  I WILL have someone help carry the 4 overweight suitcases down the stairs.  I WILL ask the driver to load them.  I WILL check them curbside.  I WILL ask for a wheelchair.  I WILL take the cart.  When someone offers any help, I will say, "Yes, please!" instead of no, thank you.

And I will write something on my hand to remind me in the middle of things when I'm tempted to forget all of this.  We spend some time joking about what I should write and decide on "there is enough time" because my problem is that I feel rushed and get flustered.  A reminder that there is enough time should give me the chance to take a couple breaths before I respond or do the next thing.  In theory.

Are we there yet?

In practice, the neighbor who I asked to help bring the bags down forgot how days of the week work (it happens), so I had to bring the bags down the stairs, but I wore all the braces and was very careful to use good posture with the right muscle groups engaged.  Turns out you can't check curbside for international travel, but the driver is a sweetheart and helped me get everything inside where the gate agent didn't know how to process my not-quite-Visa and the appalling baggage fees, and it was okay because I had so much time.  

When I got to Canada, I lucked out and found a cart ride and then got captured by the wheelchair people who were uninterested in my reflexive no thank you, and then the baggage guy brought all the bags to the car rental place where he waited forever and then helped load them into the car even though he wasn't supposed to, and I rested and iced aggressively and didn't collapse.

So huge thanks to BH, who is my guide to learning to be more kind to myself to get the results I want even if I don't want to be in the situation I am in.

Shopping Sprees and Icing

Trying to plan and buy 6 month supplies of all the things that I can't get in Canada for comparable prices is . . . fun.  And there's no way it will all fit.  With the medical-related stuff taking up 2 of the 4 suitcases, there isn't really much room for everything else.  I might have to take the home leaves just to swap out stuff.  If I ever leave.  I go from being sure they're professionals who know what they're doing and they're not just going to call it off from wondering how they get paid to do things this poorly.

Please admire my first backing in properly picture. The stuff was easier to unload. Please ignore everything else.

But if I do go, whenever that is, I will have all the stuff, dagnabbit.  And I am being good about icing in between.  Better now that I've ordered extra gel packs for icing to bring with me.  They'll be sufficiently cold, and I'll be able to ice more things at once, possibly reducing the overall time it takes to ice.

Sometimes I wonder what it's like to not have to carefully plan exercise and an hour of icing twice a day.  It's 3-5 hours of personal healthcare a day.  And most people don't have to do it.  What do they do with all that time?  How many books could they read in that time!  (Especially if the physical act of reading books didn't cause them debilitating pain?!)

It's not like I don't do anything.  I get a lot of books and podcasts listened to.  But I think that also contributes to me being bad at actually resting.  I still, after decades of this, feel like I'm not doing enough and that resting is not actively doing things but passively wasting time.  It's kind of appalling how built in that is in my bones and brain.  Even after so many years of not being able to actively do the things without great consequences.  Resting is how we prevent consequences.  We know this.  And yet.

So, we prepare and we live in hope that the subcontracting companies get their acts together, so we can get away from the agony at work and the anguish of not knowing and being in between.  Stay tuned.

Eating great while cleaning out the fridge!

Things to Pray for (an edited list : )

I still don't know when I'm leaving. It might be December 1 (next week). It . . . might not. No one knows. Which seems . . . problematic. So. 

Here are some things I could use prayer for as I prepare for my Canadian adventure!

• Patience
• A date of departure
• An address for arrival
• For my borrowed Canada phone to connect to wifi, so I can try to get an e-sim card for it before I leave (whenever that is) 
• That I will rest regularly and sufficiently
• That my foot will calm the #*&% down and function without extreme pain
• That my brain will focus instead of fragmenting and fogging 
• That my pelvis and ribs and shoulder and knee will be happy and stay in the right place like it's their job that they like doing
• That I will pack / fit everything (so maybe pray for some time- and space- bending abilities?)
• Peace and calm
• Ability to prioritize 
• Ability to complete tasks in order of priority and without getting constantly distracted
• Ability to make decisions
• Organization for the new job responsibilities
• That VPN will work so I can read, listen to, and watch my stuff without shenanigans
• That my housing will meet my needs
• Pain levels stay manageable

I'll keep adding things to the list. I appreciate your prayers and positive thoughts! 

Anything I can pray about for you? Comment or message me! 

a song that has been running through my head as I pray and contemplate and plan

Begging you to be my escape - some details about the why

So, some stuff happened at work.  And suddenly, I just didn't want to be where I was anymore.  

And then this ask came along to potentially relocate to Canada for a year, and I was on it.  I checked first to be sure there were physical therapy pools in the area that I could get to.  (I'm not completely irrational.)  

Then I threw my name in the ring and, motivated by rage and frustration, I sold myself as a great candidate for the thing!  And they were really impressed and agreed that I should do the thing.

In some ways, I AM a great candidate for the thing!  In some other ways, I mean, have you heard about how my body is falling apart?  And how it reacts when there is a lot of stress?  Or reacts to travel?  Or sitting wrong for 10 minutes?  Or moving too fast for 1 second?  I am NOT a spry 20-something who can up and move a lot and sit in a regular chair and do work for 12 hours a day and be FINE.

And have you MET me?  I mean, do you remember how awkward it was to get to know me (if you did so as an adult since my chronic pain shenanigans have ramped up)?  How many times I forgot your name.  How many times I still forget your name?  And can't remember things about you that are important?  Or forget words?  Or lose my train of thought?  Or can't remember the sentence you just said?  Or the last word I said?  What was I talking about?

For a while, I was in a negative place and this was my way to escape.  

And that's . . . not the best reason to make an important and life-altering decision that could potentially destroy you.  

Especially not when your foot is MAD about . . . whatever it is mad about.  And your shoulder.  And your knee.  And . . .   There are a lot of ands in this list.  I will be away from all the medical professionals who are familiar with my connective tissue disorder and know how to safely literally shove my skeleton and joints back in place on a regular basis.  And the therapy pool will be colder and louder.

I will lose access to all my books, manga, and anime DVDs.  For a year.  

I'm a leader / facilitator in two small groups with my church and lead lots of projects at work.  I have friends I hang out with when I'm feeling people-y.  I have a kid I mentor.  Going to a place where you lose access to all your people when you are not in the best mental place is also . . . maybe not the smartest plan.

But.

Where I was is probably worse.  

And I don't know what I could have done to make it better.  I've sort of lost confidence in my ability to do so.  And maybe interest in breaking myself (more) trying.

So, lots of intense new challenges, some of which I can probably help with.  In a different place.  With completely different people.  Sort of with the same company, doing things to help make peoples' lives better.

It is an adventure.  I chose it, for whatever not-great reasons, so let's see what happens.

It's Gonna Be All Right - Probably

 Deep breaths! 

"It's Gonna Be All Right" by Sara Groves has also been running through my head a lot lately.  Like my brain is trying to tell me something . . .  I hope it's right.  If not in this case, at least it's Sara Groves.  Now I need to listen to the whole album.  And her whole catalog.

Someone asked about this.  If you want to get notified about new posts, you can try this.  Let me know what happens?  I'm honestly not sure.  : D

New Opportunities to not be MacGyver

Got the new wrist brace. Have a clever plan to prevent it from breaking in that way this time. 

Beautiful. : D  We got this! 

Pull Me Out

"Pull Me Out" by Bebo Norman

"Well this could be all about just letting go, or this could be all about just holding on." 

I have loved this song since the first time I heart it years ago.  And every word feels very present right now as I still feel like things are flying apart for me.  I am still very hurt by the betrayal of my leaders, but is it really the right choice to just give up and run away?  Shouldn't I be trying to wrestle with my hurt and humiliation to get to a place where I can carry on like I was before doing good work I enjoy (less of it moving forward due to some other changes they're making)?  Can I keep up with those changes. (I don't think so.)  I don't have a clear idea of what the right choice is.  I feel very stuck, and I want someone to pull me out.

That's what I was feeling a couple months ago.  And then there was this email that said they needed someone with my expertise who maybe would like to move to Canada for a year.  And it felt like maybe that was how God was reaching down here to help pull me out.

Maybe it was, but maybe it wasn't.  Maybe it doesn't matter.  Maybe I just have to trust that God will be with me regardless of my choice.  And that there is a good ending on either path.

"There is happiness for those who accept their fate.  There is glory for those who defy their fate." - Princess Tutu anime

Stay tuned.

This is the face of a person who is excited about a book she won't read for 10 years!

The release of this book has been a SAGA, friends. I am so excited about it! And it came here before I left! And I am not going to get to read it for probably 10 years. 

This author writes epic, detailed, dense, interconnected series, so I will buy each one in this last (she promises for really real) series as it comes out and then read the human-sized stack of books all at once.  And it will be glorious! 

So, no, I am not getting distracted. I am not going to try to pack this monster. I will live in anticipation and drool over the cover by Jody Lee (fox! moon! tree!). And don't even get me started about the next Murderbot book coming out this week! (An embarrassment of riches!)

Any books coming out this year you're looking forward to reading? Or that you read that I should add to my list of things to read in the great white north? 

I mean, I guess this is better

MUST WE, wrist brace? Seriously?! 

In retrospect, it's much better for this to snap BEFORE I leave, but that is NOT how I felt that day. New one is here, sporty black and blue. We are ALL FINE. 

Well, except the knee brace, which we are waiting for replacement pads on. And the shoe orthotics we're trying to break in. And the fingers that keep bending the wrong way. And the ribs that won't stay in place to the absolute rage of the amazing dislocating shoulder. And the plantar fasciitis. And my splintered squirrelly attention. 

But, I mean, yes. Technically overall more fine than not. 

How is autumn going for you? 🤣

Well, fortune cookie fans, have we got news for you!

So, fortune cookie fans, I am temporarily relocating to Canada for work, and this fortune cookie wants me to know it was ON IT.

There is a LOT to do and organize and research (I might be leaving December 1), and for reasons I'm feeling pretty scattered. If you'd like to help in any of the following ways, let me know! 

A. Claim a research mission from a list, do the research, compile it, and dump it in the Notes for me to look at when I get a second. Feel free to leave comments on something if you have questions. (Private message me with the email you want to use to get access to the Google doc.) (Ex. Research specific kind of massage person near where I'll be and make a list with links!)

B. Claim an in-person mission to come hang out and help me GET A THING DONE for the love of Bob.  (Ex. Food sorting and donating!) (Private message me with the email you want to use to get access to the Google doc.)

C. Check back here (or subscribe or whatever) and comment and interact with each other on stuff I post in my frazzlement to show that you care and appreciate the effort I am putting forth to try to be humorous!

All are valid forms of helping!  Thank you in advance, and stay tuned.

The Locked Tomb series: 3 volumes (and counting) of unreliable narrators, necromancy, and not quite knowing why I like this series as much as I do

The first book Gideon the Ninth is basically a mystery puzzle video game full of necromancy and POV characters being terrible to each other because they have been so traumatized that they don't quite know how NOT to be terrible to each other.  None of these things should appeal to me.  But I got a huge kick out of this snarky, quirky book even as it killed off basically everyone, including the people I liked.  It was hilarious and ridiculous (in addition to being gross).

The sequel Harrow the Ninth was harder to like (just like Harrow).  I mean, there are unreliable narrators and then there are guilt-ridden and unlikeable narrators who arrange destructive brain surgery for themselves to make themselves even MORE unreliable before the beginning in a book full of even more gross necromancy and characters I don't like, and my time with my preferred narrator was limited.  How do you solve a bunch of mysteries when you've sort of foxed the brain of the person you most spend time in?  And how can this super complicated and sad set of situations be resolves?  Well . . . 

The third book Nona the Ninth was just a delightful breath of fresh air for the most part.  This unreliable narrator had complete memory loss and could have been one of two people and had a bafflingly endearing personality.  The book once again had the sort of end that upends everything that came before it and had the sort of end reveal that required me to read it again immediately after finishing it the first time.  There was very little gross necromancy.  The point of view character was a sweetheart.  The memory loss trope was complicated further by the whole souls and bodies in different combinations.  

I am waiting for the next book to see what curveballs come our way and if certain characters that aren't quite dead do better in any way.