Read that while most people tend to gain weight through adulthood, men typically stop around age 55, while women generally stop gaining weight by about age 65. Figures. Well, I'm not sure if my weight is up a few pounds because of age or because my thyroid is crapping out again. I should know in a couple of weeks. Since I was around 40, my weight seems to match my age. I was around 140 when I was 40, around 150 at 50, and now here I am getting close to 60 at 160. So if I'm not going to stop until I'm 65, that puts me peaking at 165, which really sucks. That's 10 pounds shy of morbid obesity, and my sleep apnea is one more thing to worry about, knowing the health issues that come with being overweight. 

Gaining weight not only increases my cholesterol, blood pressure, and puts me more at risk of diabetes and other diseases, but also increases the chances that I'll need to increase my thyroid medication dose and that my sleep apnea will get worse. It sucks having little to no control over my weight. It really does. But it's been this way for many years now, and I don't expect it to ever change. No way I would dare try weight loss drugs, as sensitive as I am to medication. I know damn well it would backfire on me somehow. I still have more muscle than average, so I don't look nearly as much as I weigh.

Another successful night! AHI score was 2.1.

Changed the rat's cage earlier. She's definitely having a harder time getting around and seems like she might be sleeping more as well. I gave her a new hammock, so now she’s setting up a new nest with the shredded paper I included. It's hard to believe this is the same rat that, when she was a baby, would disappear in the blink of an eye—until I found her peering down at me from the top shelf of the closet.

Some guy was edging Toni's place yesterday evening, so I messaged her to ask what was up since we noticed her car disappeared days ago. It turns out she sold her car because she doesn't feel comfortable driving anymore. How sad. I hope this doesn't mean she's considering going into assisted living! I know it sounds selfish of me, but I dread the idea of her place going up for sale and risking getting someone in there with either a mutt that won't shut up, or a motorcycle that's revved regularly, or tons of company, or something really annoying. I would do what I had to do to get them moved if they didn't shut up. But I wouldn’t want to be forced to go through the hassle to begin with.

I'm proud of myself for becoming less forgiving over the years. There was only one person I ever forgave that I didn't live to regret. I still need to work on not reaching out to those who don't reach out to me, though. I figure if they never reach out to me, then they never cared in the first place. I just wish I could stop caring. I can't help, nor do I understand, my feelings at times. Why do I still care so much for Nane? And why do I know I would be very sad if anything bad happened to her—this person who probably barely even remembers that I exist? We can't make people care, so why not respect that and not waste my time?

Tom is trying to create his own AI program that will keep an inventory of where our stuff is. In a tiny house, it's harder to find things. And then there's the fact that our memories aren't what they used to be. It would be great if, instead of having to tear things up and hunt for whatever, we could just ask it where something was.