In Which our Hero Bores Her Loyal Readers
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Writing... the vicodin and percoset (double the drugs, double the fun?) are starting to kick in, and in a moment I will be asleep, lying down in my own little bed, safe and warm... I had the need to write, first. Must write. Why? Damned if I know... but it seems to matter to me now, so write I will.
This is, unfortunately, going to be rather stream-of-consciousness. I don't really have the energy for anything else, much as I might like it. But the only real thing of importance in that stream is this: the song "Runaway", by the Corrs... sounds of cartoons spilling in from the next room... Caleb, sitting on the other computer, sighing... Kitten asleep somewhere in Canada, dreaming of me, perhaps... music and safety and comfort and thoughts of my boys.
My mind keeps spinning, around and around, a melodic maypole-dance, each new sensation or thought one more ribbon, one more time around, each second bringing me closer to a core... I can't quite see it, can't quite recognize it, but I know it's there.
Sometimes I'm an idiot. I'm sure you've guessed that by now... but I felt I needed to say it. One of the REALLY bad days, a couple friends stopped by... some of them were drunk, one of them is really only a casual acquaintance... between 'em, they broke a freezy mug - those cups with liquid-filled walls that you put in the freezer, you know the ones - made my migrane infinitely worse, interrupted me when I was sorta idly masturbating, trying VERY hard to either make the headache go away or to just cum hard enough to fall asleep... and then I chased them out, no apologies, no politeness, just kicked 'em out.
They hadn't called, either upstairs or down... at least two of them knew that I had been feeling pretty shitty. The femme involved claims that the main reason they came over was BECAUSE they knew I was feeling bad and wanted to cheer me up... gods. STUPID... see, when I already have an average of one panic attack a week just from trying to deal with people, when I have such horrible pain in my jaw that I can't talk without hurting, and when the people involved are ALREADY drunk... yeah. I have no need for that.
It's the already-drunk part that was the last straw, so to speak. If they had showed up sober, wanted to hang out and get drunk? No, I still wouldn't have been involved, but Caleb and Deb more than likely would have... it would have been ok. If they had called, given me some warning? I would have either taken a LOT more painkillers, or told them politely on the phone that I didn't feel up to company. But to come over already drunk, break things, sit around as if you own the place... I'm not the only one who thinks this is rude to do to someone who is in massive pain and who has problems dealing with people some days, right?
Ok, I feel better... I've wanted to rant about that for a while. Now that I have, it's ok, more or less.
Oh, the GOOD news that I had been trying to think of: Get Smart is on daily now! That, and Kadin is doing well... *smile*
Ack... and now I need to go lie down. The drugs are hitting hard enough that I keep falling onto the keyboard. I'll be back...
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