So I get my leftover Subway sandwich out of the fridge to have with my (late, sigh) lunch. Sit down to eat. Take a big bite.
It’s frozen. A most unpleasant shock.
This is less than inexplicable. Our fridge has this spot on the top of the fridge compartment where by some odd fluke the freezer above it leaks through and occasionally this leads to incidents such as these.
Usually it’s just something as harmless as finding one of my bottles of pop is semi-frozen, and that can be downright pleasant.
Like having a custom Slurpee of one of my favorite sodas! Damn good on a hot day.
But anyhow, yeah, another of life’s fun little surprises.
Eating my “lunch” at fresking 5:30 pm because of another attack of sleeping when I should be eating. Totally planned to eat at 3 pm like usual. But when I stop gaming at 3, I am hit with a wave of intense sleepiness, and really have no choice but to lay down and have a snooze.
I’m going to have to figure out a way top restructure things to eliminate the assumption that I will be able to go on to blog n’ eat AFTER I do something else, like play games.
It’s becoming increasingly clear that this is no longer possilble. I just don’t have the endurance to do it.
Especially not since I quit caffeine. Dammit.
I used to have a liter of diet cola with lunch and one with supper, and those are my two big blogging meals as well.
Not a coincidence. I figured the caffeine would help me stay alert while writing.
After all, we writers love our coffee for a reason, right?
And I do crave it. I’ve been getting caffeine free Diet Coke as a substitute after the marvelous miss Felicity assured me it tasted way better than it used to (and it does), and that goes a surprisingly long way towards scratching the itch.
I honestly think that because it tastes so much like normal Diet Coke, my body is fooled into thinking it’s getting the caffeine too.
I won’t tell it if you don’t!
Been sleeping a lot today. And that’s cool. Pretty sure I am sleeping out of genuine need and not just a depressive desire to flee reality as far as possible without dying.
Sleep is death without the commitment, after all.
I won’t lie, the urge to flee life has been hitting me now and then. Kinda comes with all the pain and scary health prospects.
Depression doesn’t like those. Or rather, it does if it can use them to further suppress you and make you its bitch.
Sick confession : there was a very unhealthy part of me that was disappointed that I got over my first big attack of “the cramp”.
It was looking forward to “finally” living the invalid lifestyle of its dreams. One where people “have to” look after me and take care of me and give me all that nurturing and TLC I never got as wee child and all I have to do is be charming and lovable and nice and I never have to face the horrors of being responsible for myself again!
So pretty much the closest non-fetish way of actually becoming a kid again. It would (will?) be a lifestyle remarkably like that I had before being raped at the afe of 4.
Back then, before school was a part of my life, all I did was play and do what I was told and charm the socks off of whatever adults were around.
And the sick part of me is hoping for a return to those glory days.
As opposed to going the other way and actually growing up and becoming a fully functional adult who contributes to society.
Because honestly, that seems like a lot more work.
More after the break.
Already dreading tomorrow
Just got back from Denny’s, and once more getting from car to computer chair was a brutal fucking ordeal.
Hell, getting from our customary booth to the car was bad enough.
Living on the razor’s edge like this sucks. Every time I have to get up and go more than a foot or two, I wonder, “Is this it? Is this the trip where I break down entirely and just plain can’t make it and have to yell for help? And therefore have to admit to myself and the world that I am a helpless cripple now? ”
So tomorrow I am def gonna call Doctor Chao’s office and try to get at least a phone appointment with him.
Because we gotta talk. NOW.
I am on the verge of losing my ability to walk entirely. I will be lucky if I retain enough mobility to make it to the crapper and back. I am looking at life in a wheelchair here.
And that strikes me as the sort of thing doctors are supposed to prevent.
But I have no sense that Doctor Chao sees it that way at all. At the end of the last visit, he just glanced at my file, said “Well, we don’t have x-rays of your knees yet. So, you go do that now. ”
In other words, instead of his job, all he did was look for an excuse to get me to leave and then pounce on it.
And it’s going to be hard to talk to him without breaking down and dumping all of this on him all at once.
And I don’t want to do that…. unless it’s justified.
Trust me, if it seems like he is ignoring, belittling, or minimizing what I am saying, or otherwise gives me the impression that I am going to lose my legs and he don’t care, he will incur the Wrath of the Fru in one of its most pure and devastating forms : the Emotional Volcanic Eruption.
That’s when all the emotions that have been building up inside me come out all at once in a hot torrent of accusation, prosecution, and bitterness.
All still focused by my enormous verbal skills, by the way.
It could lay waste to nations.
I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.