Over It.

This day? OVER IT!

Lately, just dragging myself out of bed each day is almost more than I can handle, but for some reason today was especially rough. Not as bad as Saturday, when I slept from about 9 am to 6 pm and still managed to go to sleep at a decent hour, or Sunday, when I did nearly the same thing, only on the futon instead of in bed — but not great, either.

At my appointment this morning, my (notorious) HCP scolded me for not taking care of myself. Exasperated by my non-compliance, lack of affect, and the general vagueness of my symptoms*, she demanded, “What’s wrong with you?” to which I just shrugged, mumbling “idk I’m a mess.”

Because I think that’s basically what it is, although she still insists on bloodwork. This seems pointless to me, since the only possibility is bad news. Because — NO, HEAR ME OUT — either something is very wrong with me, in which case I’ll know about it and will have to face up to my own mortality versus just randomly dropping dead on the sidewalk one day, or else nothing is wrong with me (physically), in which case I’m losing my mind.

At this point, I’m not even sure I care. I just want to sleep for the next three months or so.

Anyway, then I went home to do work, which turned out to be a colossal waste of time on account of my being a colossal waste of Earth’s limited resources. Seriously, I’d have accomplished more by sticking my entire head in the food processor and switching it on. But I didn’t. I already have a headache.

But I did do a thing, not by choice: My Fella scheduled a vet visit this afternoon for Camille, Kweku-cat, and Oreo — all at the same time. Yes, I can walk a leashed dog and balance two cat carriers while emptying my f*cking wallet at the same time. I’m, like, magical.

Oh wait, I did two (2) things. The other was to quit my in-laws**…now I just have to somehow break the news to the them that I AM DONE WITH THEIR CRAZY.


*”I’m puzzled. I can’t tell if you’re depressed or anemic or you’ve got some kind of esoteric mono,” she said. Which sort of begs the question, what is “esoteric” mono? Is that some hipster version of EBV? Can you only catch it from (artisanally) kissing locally sourced, free-range Brooklynites? Are your test results Instagrammed? If nothing else, it must be so obscure, so underground that most doctors have never even heard of it.
**don’t worry, I’m keeping My Fella. *sigh* I just sometimes wish I’d fallen in love with an actual orphan, as opposed to the son of the son of one.

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