Saw the nutritionist yesterday. I don't think she normally works with eating disorders, because as I was talking about trauma and how I coped (and how Sis coped in the completely opposite way) and she seemed totally weirded out. I'm going to be asking her if there's a nutritionist in the Harris County system who DOES do work with ED patients. I'm thinking that this woman mainly works with the poor parents in the area to educate them how to feed their kids well and other stuff like that. I'm seeing a nutritionist in the first place because my triglycerides are in the 400s. That's SERIOUSLY bad. A product of an empty carbs/fast food/crap food diet that's been going on for YEARS. She asked me why I hadn't tried to fix my eating habits earlier. She didn't seem to understand what I was saying... I explained that my focus for the last 10 years has been just staying alive, so doing something beneficial was a low priority. I was in so much emotional pain, and eating made me feel better. I completely didn't care about calories or fat content, because I just cared about stopping the hurt. I also didn't care because the dark, damaged part of me rather wanted me to have a stroke or heart attack so I wouldn't have to do anything more drastic to die. Now that I'm a little more balanced emotionally, and no longer suicidal on a regular basis, I can focus on things to keep me alive, like exercising and eating better. However, she threw so much at me, I have overloaded. She wanted me to reduce both portion size and what I'm eating. Even though I explained that we needed to take this rather slowly or else I would just give up on it entirely. And that's already the case... yesterday, I got nothing but tea and a salad. I ate veggies as snacks. Today? Thus far I've had a double cheeseburger and a large regular coke. I have asked Mom to go to the store with me later so I can get some more healthy things so I have food in the house and not have to feel like I need to go out for fast food. Because having nothing in the house is always my downfall. My other downfall is not having any alternatives to my normal craving foods available. Mom bought sour cream and onion ruffles the other day. I have said on many occasions that a bag of potato chips in the house will ALWAYS disappear, because it's one of my biggest binge foods. And, if Mom wants to have chips, she needs to either buy the snack-size bags (which force me to only eat a small amount instead of the whole back in a sitting), and/or buy me some alternative. Like, she could have bought some baked lays or baked cheetos for me and I would have eaten those instead. Last night, she literally said, "So, I can NEVER have potato chips in the house again?" I really felt like saying, "YES DAMMIT. Not having chips in the house ISN'T THAT MUCH TO ASK." But, instead of getting mad, I calmly explained again about alternatives and snack sizes. Her response was that the snack-size ones are too expensive because you are just paying for packaging. I told her that it was critical for a while until I get to a point where I can be better about portion size. I mean, WTF. She KNOWS this is a problem and needs to listen to me as to how to help me get better. I get really frustrated and hurt when she gets all "you're messing with what I can eat" on me. She made the changes as Sis was recovering from the anorexia/bulemia. Why can't she do the same for me? Once again, it's the problem with being a compulsive overeater/binge eater. You just look fat and lazy, not actually sick, so it's a lot harder to get people to support you in recovery.

Thank GOD I had some therapy. Dialectical Behavioral Therapy has saved my life. Literally. It's a particular therapy approach that focuses on being aware of your feelings and learning how to have a feeling without letting it take over your life. Anyone who suffers from depression and/or anxiety really needs to check this out. Where I used to get so completely pissed at Mom about something, I am now able to stay calm. When she starts to ramp up and freak out, I don't ramp up and freak out with her. We haven't had a real screaming fight since I got about two weeks into the IOP prep group. It's so fabulous.

In other news, Texas is finally actually PLAYING football. The first quarter of this game against Central Florida was so horrid. But things are getting better now. Whew.

Sis moved back upstairs last night after having spent 6 weeks recovering from her first bunion surgery by living in Mom's room. This meant Mom slept on the couch again. She was getting crankier and crankier as time went on. Thank God I didn't engage her in the cranky. Now she has her own room back for a few weeks until Sis has surgery on her other foot. Maybe I can convince Mom to do convert the dining room into a makeshift bedroom for her next time. Just push all of the furniture against the walls, put up an air mattress, and hang some curtains to seal it off. It might help her sleep some. Since Mom is no longer out in the living room all of the time, Max has decided that he needs to climb the stairs to cuddle with me all the time. He used to sleep in my room during the winter when I was a teenager. Max's presence in my room is seriously annoying Fluffy, because she wants to be my cuddle kitty. But she has Sis now, and I think Max has told her so. It's just too funny.

We do not have enough money to pay for my LJ as it expires today! I will have to limp along with only a few icons until Friday, when I can pay for it again. If only I had gotten that "You owe LJ your annual pound of flesh" sooner, I could have prevented it. Arg.

In good news, however, group went well today. The girl I thought might not come back did, and seemed to feel better about being there. We helped a girl figure out new coping strategies to help herself not self-harm, and generally shared a bit about ourselves. Thursday will be skills building again. Still, I found out new things about everyone and I found it helpful to me in both the help I got, but also that good feeling of giving help to others. The self-harm chick actually thanked me for all of my help. I told her that I was glad I could and to not give up on herself. 

Bad news was that at the regular clinic I go to, they STILL didn't have all of my medications available for me. This is after I called and talked to Diane the WonderNurse on Friday and had her sniff out the problem and fix it. When I spoke to the pharmacy on Friday they said all of my medications were approved and would be ready to pick up. So, naturally, three of them were only a half-month's supply, though they were still going to charge me $5 per med. I only have $40, and that has to pay for ALL OF THEM. Of course, when the rest of the month was prescribed, they'd charge me another $5. Um, the reason I'm having to GO to the county is BECAUSE I DON'T HAVE MONEY. So charging me $5 per prescription is a lot of money for me. I take 8 different medications. Yeah. That $40 should be paying for LJ, dammit.

So, I have to talk to Dr. Shah tomorrow and tell him to give me several months in advance, and the same with Dr. Asshole when I see him on the 22nd. OH! Get this: I got a call from the pharmacy telling me that Dr. Asshole has prescribed an iron supplement and some levothroid (used to supplement a hypothyroid). This is all well and good, but since *I* haven't seen the bloodwork that's prompting his prescriptions - BECAUSE I'M NOT ALLOWED ACCESS TO MY OWN MEDICAL RECORDS - I ain't taking anything until I approve it first. God, to think that others actually just say "Okay, doc. You prescribed it, I guess it must be good for me!" without ever educating themselves about their diseases and the medications they're on. (BTW, iron supplements make me incredibly nauseated - and I want to check and see exactly how anemic I am before adding more iron than what I'm already taking in my multivitamin. Also, I've been on levothroid before, it gave me hot flashes, made me lose my hair, and other horrible side effects. Which Dr. Torio should ASK BEFORE PRESCRIBING ANYTHING. GAH!! The level of incompetence and potential malpractice at this clinic - minus Diane the wonderNurse - is excruciatingly painful and horribly frustrating.)

Mom and I have since discussed and worked out some of the kinks that led to yesterday's "MY MOM SUCKS ASS" post. Basically, I've let her know that if she wants some time alone, that all she need do is ask, because just closing her door doesn't mean anything as a signal since her door is always closed to keep the cats out. I need her to let me know verbally if I shouldn't come in. And that it's okay to say no to me coming in, or staying, or whatever. Communication and boundaries. Sis and I have worked out a system where I've put a sign up on my door - one side says come in, the other says go away. Easy and effective. Maybe Mom needs something like this. I'll have to ask her.

Lastly, Andrew has figured out that if he runs up the stairs and jumps on the desk chair that is sitting in the corner of the landing, he can spin. And he finds this very very fun. He's so massive that it spins for quite a while before stopping. He's even figured out how to walk around the perimeter to spin it more. He's also not averse to me spinning the chair for him. For being so twitchy about being touched, I would never have guessed he'd like to spin in a desk chair. He's so weird.

I'm really impressed... the weather is actually really pleasant! It's 12:30 and still in the 80s. It's sunny, not hot, and with a cool breeze. Such a nice day to drive around with the sunroof open (which is what I did when I ran over to Sonic for breakfast).

As I walked out of the house, a squirrel in the oak tree out front started complaining at me. Every time I moved, he would chitter at me. It was so funny. This fall we have to do some gardening... there was a tiny palm plant in the flowerbed out front last year. Now it's a small palm tree. It needs to be transplanted to the backyard. We need to reseed, weed, and generally clean up both front and back. The backyard right now looks more like a jungle than a tiny tiny plot of yard.

We are also talking about getting the hot tub (that came with the house) tuned up - cleaned, balanced, refiled, etc. - so that we can use it. I have read that soaking in a hot tub is great therapy for fibromyalgia. It'd be nice to actually use the damn thing, instead of just listening to it circulate. It's one of those ones that has the LED lights that make the water turn different colors if you so choose.

Now that it's nice outside, Mom and I can start to work on enclosing the porch (where the hot tub is) so that we can let the cats outside. We just could not do it when every afternoon was in the 100s. Now that we are only reaching the low 90s, it's much more doable. Probably next paycheck, when we don't have to pay rent.

I finally found my Spanish workbook! I can learn the rest of the language finally. That will be so useful. I really need to find someone to talk to on a regular basis that will help me learn how to speak as well as I can listen and comprehend. And I need to learn how to speak in another tense than present. That will only get you so far.

I've also decided to start bringing crayons and paper with me when I go to clinics around the county, so that when I end up hanging out with other people's kids, I have something for them to do. I should also hit somewhere like Barnes & Noble for a book that is in both English and Spanish. That would be good to have. I think it's so funny that I've become this child magnet. I've never been a kid person. I just never know what to say and how to talk to them without being either condescending or too old and using too big words. 

I'm only awake right now because for some crazy reason, I have the worst restless legs. I ate, I drank a bunch of gatorade, and nothing helped. Very strange. So I finally gave up on continuing to sleep and got up. I should really stop messing around on the computer and start studying my Spanish, but it's Sunday, and I'm being lazy.

I really need to clean... maybe later. I don't know why I'm writing two-sentence paragraphs, but, whatever. (My mood penguin is super-awake. I really like him... he's cute. Reminds me a little of Opus, but without the sarcasm or Bill. Ah, Bill, I miss you. ACK!)

MY SISTER LEFT ONE OF OUR CATS OUTSIDE FOR MOST OF THE EVENING. When we come home, at least one of the kitties, and sometimes all four, line up at the door. Mostly just to smell the outside and try and feint like they'll run out. Most of the time they don't get the chance because we stop them before they can even get close to the open door. However, Sis came home and didn't block the door like usual. Max decided to try his luck. He was outside unbeknownst to Sis from the time she got home at about 8, until 11pm when I came downstairs and asked the question that's always asked, "Where's Max?" We ask this when he's not visible because he's old and we worry about him disappearing. (He sometimes escapes, but never for long, though sometimes he gets into the bedroom and gets locked in. And, being so old, we worry about him going off to ... well. Since he's always such a magnet - he's either on you if your sitting down, or attacking your legs if he thinks you're getting food he might be able to mooch - we worry when he's not bugging us.He's somewhere around 20 years old - we don't know his exact age because we aren't sure how old he was when he showed up on our doorstep 17 years ago, but we know he was older than 2. I am so mad at her. She said, "Don't act like it couldn't have happened to you!" But, actually, it probably wouldn't. Because I am 1) bigger, 2) always on the lookout for kitties when I enter the door, and 3) never distracted to the point where I won't notice FOR THREE HOURS that he's gone. I could have been better with it had she immediately gone upstairs to her room. Upstairs there is basically no way of knowing if any of the cats are downstairs, but especially Max, since he won't come upstairs at all. But when downstairs, as I explained earlier, you can't NOT notice him, because he's always visible unless he's in the laundry room eating or going to the bathroom. I just can't quite believe that it wouldn't dawn on me after three hours that I hadn't seen or been somehow annoyed by him.

The smart man (instincts honed after years of being an outside kitty of ours, and years prior to that being a stray) was at the door when I yelled for him. I heard him meow and for a minute I couldn't figure out where his voice was coming from. I finally figured out that he had to be outside. I opened up the door and he came right in. My guess is that he had his little roam around the neighborhood and then came back to the front door to wait for Mom to come home at 1130 and let him back in (he didn't know I had dropped her off and had her car, so I would have to go pick her up - which Sis decided to do instead). He always waits inside at the door starting at about 11pm for her to come home to do snack time (where they all get 1/7 of a can of cat food as their nightly ritual).

For some reason, this didn't post when I hit the button at 11:30. It's just now being posted at 3am after Sis and I have had a fight over her carelessness (and her refusal to do anything to help her short-term memory problems - which are real and seriously getting in the way of her functioning, and our family unit functioning, properly).

So, Thursday night, Richard the Landlord decided that it was just ridiculous and he would rent us a motel room for the night so we wouldn't die of heat exhaustion before they could install the new(er) condenser unit Friday morning. I ended up being the only one to go, because Mom didn't feel safe leaving the house open (if we had closed up all the windows, the cats would have passed out), and Sis just... well, I don't remember why Sis didn't go. But I had an appointment in the morning, so I left.

The motel was off I-45, about a 30 minute drive from where we live. We expected that it would be some motel from right around us (since we also live on a highway). Also, a good chunk of that drive was done on a tollway, which ended up costing about $3 just to get there.


It turns out it was one of those low-budget motels that have the big parking lots in the back for the truckers wanting an actual bed to sleep in overnight. I checked in, after waiting behind a couple of guys who were probably nice, but had long-haul written all over them. I got a room on the first floor halfway down the building. At least there was a parking spot for my car right in front of my door. However, the whole place was in serious need of an upgrade. The key was one of those super-old kinds with the plastic card with the holes punched in it, instead of the magnetic ones. The deadbolt on the door didn't really close completely (to my standard at least). Then there was the ice machine. To get to it, I had to leave my room, turn right, then turn right again into this tiny hallway that cut across the building to the other side. The ice machine was buried in a dark corner. I was NOT HAPPY. Then, since this was a crappy budget motel (thanks, Richard, for cheaping out on me) there was absolutely NO PADDING on the bed. None. It was like sleeping on a bumpy floor. All of the linens were bleached within an inch of their lives. Between the not feeling safe, and the fact that the bed found every fibromyalgia point on my body to poke, I slept a total of about 2 hours. I took a shower to get the three days worth of sweat nastiness off and wash my hair. I then left for my appointment.

I had to drive all the way to Humble for my eligibility appointment with Harris County. The clinic was supposed to be on First street. I had the directions from google, which told me that it would be a right turn off the frontage road. I drove past the point I knew the road was supposed to be with no help. Finally, on the trip back south toward my original exit, I saw a sign for the clinic. Turns out First Street isn't marked as First street, but as the numbered state road it also is. Thanks a lot, Humble. (Pronounced Umm-bull, you don't pronounce the "h". Stupid, I know.)

See, their free clinics are only free if you prove that you have little/no income and you live in Harris county. Silly me, since I thought free clinic meant, you know, FREE. But, every appointment so far I've had to pay for (though I've only had to pay $1 - they let you pay what you can, so a token dollar is just fine). I had my first appointment actually scheduled for what I thought was July 28th. Turns out that the woman told me it was the 28th but scheduled it for the 27th. So, when I called to let them know I'd be a little late because of traffic, they said "don't bother, you don't have an appointment today, it was yesterday." So I rescheduled for August 21st at 9am. I drove my next 30 minutes basically skirting Houston Intercontinental Airport the whole time (the gray splotch on the map). I arrived only to realized that in my haste to leave my hot-as-hell house, I left several important documents I needed to prove that I was indeed eligible. I was on the phone with Mom trying to figure out a plan when one of the women called me up to the door. She told me that I didn't have an appointment. It was actually scheduled for Monday at 8am. I was all WTF???? "THIS IS THE SECOND TIME THIS HAS HAPPENED TO ME!!" Mom did mention that it was somewhat of a good thing, since I didn't have my papers all with me. I called the eligibility appointment line and asked to speak to a supervisor. She figured out that what had happened was someone in administration somewhere (she didn't know the person and it wasn't someone in the scheduling department) had accidentally canceled my appointment for Fri 8/21 at 9am. When she tried to put me back in at that time, someone else had already filled the spot. So she put me in the next open place on Monday 8/24 at 8am. However, SHE DIDN'T CALL AND TELL ME SHE FUCKED UP. So I had no idea. I was really pissed. The supervisor woman said she'd fire off an e-mail to her boss who would then email the chick who did the fucking up and tell her that she really made a mess and not to do it again. I was satisfied.

Now I have all of my documents - they need a weird list of items: my driver's license to prove who I am, several bills that come to me to prove I live in Harris County (but I don't get any utility bills, just medical ones, but they said it would count), my passport to prove that I am a citizen, a bank statement showing I have no money, and their "statement of support" form signed by Mom which says that she's been supporting me financially for the past year. I get to do the damn drive again tomorrow morning. I need to charge my FauxPod so I have tunes for the drive. This better fucking work and I better get my damn card tomorrow. I've been told that there are two possibilities for tomorrow: one, the eligibility "counselor" will hand me my "gold card (the golden ticket to free health care in Houston)" right then and there, or the "counselor" could tell me that I will have to wait up to 21 days for my application to be processed and receive my card in the mail. I really hope it's the former, since I really need it... Dr. Shah wants me to start group therapy at the hospital and I need my gold card number so that the clinic can send away for free Lexapro. I was told by the supervisor I spoke with on Friday to tell all of that to the "counselor" to hopefully sway them into giving me the card right away. What's fascinating is that this long, involved, red-tape-filled process was not what I was told it would be. When I had my big freak-out in May, I was told that all I had to do was fill out this one page application and go to one of the eligibility centers Mon-Fri at 7am. I would be seen and handed a gold card (which I first thought was a "goal card" but that was just the woman's poor pronunciation) right then and there. Yeah. Instead, I've now been given two erroneous appointment times, each a month after my initial call. The system is severely overburdened. Mainly by illegals. Which pisses me off, since they don't necessarily pay taxes here. I get singled out wherever I go because I'm white (at the moment, seriously pasty - flounder belly white). I deserve free health care just as much as anyone else, but I get looked at crooked because I'm somehow supposed to be making enough money to get real insurance. It's presumed that I'm somehow cheating the system. I really hate that. I can't wait until insurance companies are forced to take people no matter what. I'm so tired of the phrase "pre-existing condition."



Yesterday and today, I have spent mostly asleep. It was too hot and uncomfortable to get any decent rest since Monday, so I've been catching up. I have had the wildest most vivid dreams. One had most of the cast of Law&Order: SVU in it - unfortunately, no Mariska Hargitay. I can't remember much of any of them now, but they all seemed to be incredibly real. I woke up with that feeling this morning like I wasn't quite sure what stuff had actually happened, and which had been a dream. I thought that the power outage we had was in my head, but I found that it wasn't when my computer was shut down. Very trippy. I'm loving having my comfortable bed back. I missed my four inches of memory foam. So did all of my fibromyalgia sore points. Which reminds me, I have to call and make an appointment to see a GP at one of the clinics so they can refer me to either a pain specialist or a rheumatologist so I can be formally diagnosed with fibromyalgia. I'm going to see if the neurologist I'm seeing Tuesday will do it, but I doubt it. I'm going to try to get him to give me some more injections in my face to keep the headaches at bay. Dunno, though.

Fluffy has been quite pleased that my room is back in service. She's been up here with me most of the time since Friday afternoon. Check out this picture I took of her this morning:

Isn't she adorkable? She tends to sleep with her tongue hanging out like that. Cole has just decided to pay me a visit and is curled up in my lap, purring. Rare treat. However, it's probably just because Sis doesn't have her door open and isn't letting him in.

Woke up this afternoon to thunder. I had missed the rain while asleep, but the thunder was loud enough that it crept into my dreams and finally woke me up. It doesn't look like we're going to get any more today, but there is a chance for rain for the next couple of days. I love that right now it's in the upper 80s. At 5:30pm. That, currently, is unheard of. I'm actually rather cool upstairs. That, in the late afternoon, hasn't happened in MONTHS.

As my tiny text posts this morning hinted, I was woken up at around 7am by Mom calling me to tell me there was an enormous cat fight outside my door. Once again, I had heard it, but it was background noise in my dreams that I had been wondering at. (The fact that my brain takes in outside sounds and implants them in my dreams is why I have to be VERY CAREFUL about what tv show I fall asleep to, or else I get nightmares.) Somehow, the door to the bathroom where the three little cats are currently held was opened. I have NO IDEA how this happened. I suspect Fluffy used Andrew to do it (that's his one trick... opening doors, even the round-handled ones). She sneaked into the bathroom and proceeded to beat up on the littles - one of her favorite activities. I was able to get her out and down the stairs. She was thoroughly chastised. My one remaining problem was that I couldn't find Abby. She seemed to have completely disappeared. You know how cats do that sometimes? They just pop out of this existence and then pop back in again at a later time? We call it tessercating in our house. I had looked everywhere... the bathroom cabinets, under my bed and in my room, downstairs... nothing. So I left my bedroom door open and sat down on the bed, I figured she would show up at some point. Fluffy came back up stairs and as she walked toward my room, she looked at a bookcase that is in the alcove on the landing. My brain went, "AHA! That's where she is." So I threw Fluffy in my room and closed the door. I then spent the next 15 minutes talking very soothingly to Abby trying to convince her that Fluffy was not around, and that she was safe. She finally came out enough that I could grab her and put her back into the bathroom. Fluffy was then ceremoniously kicked out of my bedroom with an, "Oh I don't THINK so. Bad cat."

I slept from a little after that until about an hour ago. Freaking Celexa. Oh! Speaking of that, I realized why there's a suicide warning label for the drug. It's not because it affects your mood enough to cause you to feel suicidal, it's because you don't want to live anymore once all the side effects kick in - bad meds joke. I'm currently dealing with hypersomnolence, migraine (for which I feel really pissed off about - I JUST FIXED THAT PROBLEM), and serious intestinal woes. I'm also seriously achy. I basically feel like I did when I was in a major depression. Not good. This is an ANTI depressant, supposedly.

However, I have found a solution: the prescription assistance program. I have the application to send to Lexapro's manufacturer to get free meds. I just have to have my old psychiatrist fill out his portion. I'm going to be calling him on Monday to ask him if he'd fill out the forms for me, and also, if he has any Lexapro samples that he can hook me up with. That way I don't have to take this crappy celexa anymore.

Here's the problem between the two:
The celexa molecule


The Lexapro molecule


The lexapro molecule is the left side of the Celexa molecule. That big chain on the right side of the Celexa molecule is where all the side effects come from. Which is why I want my Lexapro back. My body has become so used to the one molecule, that it's freaking out trying to figure out why the medication is similar, yet so very different.

I have been on Lexapro for over 6 years. I really didn't want to mess with it. Now I have proof as to why it's a bad idea to do so. Hopefully, I can get the samples or something to allow me to switch back. I NEED IT.

Once again, thanks for listeningreading my problems.

I have Abby in my room right now, because she was howling like crazy in the bathroom. She seems very happy about the arrangement. She is up on the bed, and currently kneading the covers. She had been walking all over my computer and somehow punching shortcuts that caused Firefox to go to full screen mode (I didn't even know it had a full screen mode, much less the keyboard shortcut). She also begged and received some of the egg from my Sonic breakfast burrito. Egg is her favorite food - which I forgot. She was all up in my face yelling at me until I gave her some. 

I believe I've mentioned this before, but Abby has Dissociative Identity Disorder, or multiple personalities. Her main personality is Abby. Abby is nice, smart, and wants affection She complains only when there is no food or water. Doodle Bug is super sweet, loves to be very affectionate, and doesn't talk, only purrs. Skippy is the mean alter. She pees on the floor, will howl just to be annoying, will beat up on the other cats for no reason.

Currently I'm seeing Doodle. I'm keeping an eye on her, because I don't want Skippy to pee on my floor.

Just went to the local Dollar Tree - DUDE. So much stuff in there. OMG. I bought 3 plastic baskets, a metal ruler for crafting/painting, some magnets and a magnetic pen for the fridge calendar (Mom, Sis, and I are attempting to keep up with one another's schedules by having a central calendar. Operative word: attempting.). Lots of folders for me to organize all of the medical bills I can't pay, applications for assistance, etc, I have lying randomly about, a tiny notebook for record keeping for the calls I make to Medicaid/SSA/etc., and a small lined notepad for note-jotting. Oh, and a movie-size box of sweettarts. The last is an experiment to see if I can actually trust the food stuffs at the dollar store (or, as my godmother called them, "Everything's a Buck."). Grand total for all of these things: $13. SO AWESOME. If I had bought all of those office supplies at HEB, Walgreens, Office Depot, etc., it would have been more like $30. YAY!! for deals!!

Then I went to Hobby Lobby and got waylaid for a good while by the supervisor in the knitting section. She was definitely a talker and/or slightly manic because DAMN, I couldn't get her to stop talking. I kept trying to back out of the conversation, but she wasn't getting my hints, so I just kinda let her spin herself back down. I did, however, get some really pretty yarn to make into a prayer shawl for the church. At my church, there are only three people currently making prayer shawls. Mom and I have decided to help, which will almost double their staff. Don't worry, those of you waiting still on christmas scarves from years past - I'm collecting all of them and working on a couple of new projects that will get sent out this fall. Seriously this time. I promise. YOu can link back to this post if necessary down the road. I also got some cheap paper mache ornaments to paint for people as presents and a cross to paint for our house. YAY! for crafts!!

Now my goal is to clean up the little pile of trash remaining in the corner. Then, organize my books. Then organize those random papers. Then do my laundry (because everything I own is currently dirty). Then move our painting supplies from the hallway to the closet so they're out of the way of the movers on Thursday. I'll probably help Mom tonight in moving the things around in the kitchen area where her office will be set up - somehow we're getting it cleared out by Thursday so the movers can put them in the kitchen while they're putting Sis's stuff upstairs. I have a feeling we won't get that done by the time it needs to be. I keep trying to figure out other areas of the house we can have them put the bookcases as temporary storage spots until we can finish the clearout of the kitchen. Mom is rejecting all of my ideas. All I know is that she and I can't bring them downstairs ourselves - they're solid wood and HEAVY. We were barely able to lift them enough to move them the 15 feet to the cove on the landing so we could clean out Sis's room.

Oh, yeah. The guys are moving her stuff in Thursday afternoon. Why then? Because Sis didn't think about when Mom had her weekend off when she told the woman she was moving out. Had she extended the thing one or two more weeks, we would have had a full weekend to do the move. Instead, we get Mom's one Thursday off before she has to turn in the key on Sunday. And, naturally, Sis hasn't spent ANY of the past month doing any of the packing herself in the apartment. As usual, she leaves it until the very last minute. Which puts an incredible strain on Mom, and to some extent, me. She was supposed to help Mom clean out part of the kitchen last night (I was going to , but I ended up with a terrible migraine - like, throwing up wishing I was dead, migraine). She didn't. She was supposed to come upstairs and feed the little cats in the bathroom and she didn't. I woke this morning to Bob howling in that way he only does when they're completely out of food or water. They were out of both. Sis didn't come check on them at all last night. I was so pissed. (Abby was also pissed and therefore pissed all over the vinyl flooring in there, so now my room also kinda smells like cat pee.)

Needless to say, I'm spending as much time as humanly possible away from them, but offering my services when I can. The only problem is that Sis is being USELESS. At least I helped weekend before last by spending the whole time re-doing her room for her because she couldn't stand us just deepcleaning the carpet. We do this all for her and she doesn't appreciate it at all. [/sister rant]

But, to make myself happy: CRAFTS!!

Oh, I discovered something last night... I can't watch episodes of Dexter if I know I'll be falling asleep any time soon afterwards. The images creep into my dreams and I get nightmares. However, it's a good show! I don't know how to solve this problem.

Also, I finished The Eight. It was a really good book. A blend of thriller/mystery and historical fiction! YAY! The two main plots wove together seamlessly at the end, and I was very pleased with the ending. I'm interested to read The Fire, which is on order, and the sequel that takes place, like, 30 years after the first book. I will also be hunting down her other two novels, now that I know Katherine Neville's a good author.

It seems that my mind just doesn't want me to sleep right now. I took my pills at about 1am. Woke up at 6. Haven't been back to sleep since. And Fluffy hasn't moved from my lap since I sat up. My right arm, on which she's been leaning for a good while, is partially numb. She's being so affectionate... I'm rather shocked. She even let me clip her front claws. She's been catching on everything - pillows, my comforter, everything.

Uh oh. Cole just came upstairs. Fluffy jumped down and immediately left in a huff. He tends to come up and see me when I'm awake in the mornings. Usually, his goal is to get me to go downstairs and let him into the bedroom to see Sarah. He's become really attached to her. And I think he's being considerate of Mom by not waking her if I'm already awake. However, he doesn't seem to want to leave this morning. Maybe my baby cat actually wants to be around me for a change. I adopted him as a kitten ten years ago. Fluffy was adopted by Sis about 7 years ago. For some reason, though, Cole has decided that Sis is his person - the one he wants to hang out with the most - while Fluffy stays with me and is only affectionate toward me. This is a definite case of cats picking humans and not the other way around.

I've been reading The Eight while goofing around on the web and watching Law & Order: Criminal Intent reruns on USA. I multitask like crazy when my brain runs like this. Not quite a mixed state, but definitely one of mental agitation with no energy to do anything. The good news is, I'm liking the book thus far. I'm 75 pages in and definitely intrigued. The prose is a little strange... kind of halting in the thoughts, almost disorganized, and very spare in description. But the plot overrides the stumbling writing so far. I like the blend of past and present, though they're only barely connected at the moment. I'm excited to see how everything weaves together, though.

I'm trying to decide if I should make a run to Sonic with my $6 in cash to get breakfast. I could really use a giant Route 44 Coke right now. We're out of anything to drink but water and sprite. I'm hoping Mom will throw some money in my account so I can go grocery shopping this afternoon. That would be fabulous. We're down to odds and ends and have very little protein in the house (which is vital for me because of the hypoglycemia - and we don't want me hypoglycemic, because that makes Emery VERY CRANKY).

OH!! Not to jinx it, but there may be drought-reducing activity coming our way. I really really hope so. It'd be a nice change from super hot and super dry.

The Pizza Hut we usually order from is closed at 9:30pm. What the FUCK people. Not happy at all...

I have so many bruises, most of which I have no idea when/how I got them.

My fibromyalgia has come back with a vengeance. Mainly in my hips, but also in my shoulders. I can't seem to find a comfortable position to sleep in because everything's so tender.

My wrist, while seeming to have healed from the sprain - in other words, it doesn't hurt when I move it that certain way that caused it to hurt before - hurts in other weird places. It seems that using a hammer to jam a flathead screwdriver under nailed down wood is a BAD IDEA if you want to not hurt. Mind you, I did this for the entire room... 44 feet of tack strip, with a nail approximately every 6 inches. You do the math on how much I hammered. It was a lot. Then, there was all the edge painting...

I used a LOT of paint to do the touch ups. There were significant gaps between some of the plywood boards - like 1/2 an inch in places. Whoever built this house, and specifically this room, did a really really shitty job. I ended up having to pour paint into those cracks and then brush them ever so gently - they were filled with sawdust that we couldn't get out with the vacuum. NIGHTMARE.

However, today the room looks really good. The paint color is nice. I just wish the floor looked better. We were expecting that the plywood would be in a lot better shape. There are places where someone used a circular saw to cut other pieces DIRECTLY ON THE PLYWOOD subfloor. IDIOTS.

Hopefully, once we work up enough energy to get the carpet down, it'll look much better and cover most of the crappy wood.

Naturally, though, the threshold thingies that mom bought to seal the transition from carpet to floor are FUCKING HARD TO INSTALL. The first one sat there fine, but it was hell trying to nail it in - the nails kept bending on me. I was able to get three in, which I figured was enough for a threshold to the closet. You are then supposed to snag the carpet on the hooks and use a rubber mallet to flatten the cover part and hold the carpet in place. This did not work at all. The mallet didn't make the thing move even a smidge. And the one for the door to the hallway was cut about 1/8" too long, meaning Mom will have to spend more time using our little keyhole saw to shave the end off. Why is all this so complicated???

I really want to take my right arm off for a while. It's just one big mess of pain from fingers to shoulder. There are muscles that are constantly yelling at me: "WHAT IN GOD'S NAME DID YOU THINK YOU WERE DOING??? WE DON'T DO THAT KIND OF WORK ANYMORE!!!"

One last one: The website I ordered my books from say they have shipped, but since they go through the regular mail, there's no way to track them... I have no idea when they'll arrive, but I'm hoping that it'll be in the next week... I'll finish the one I'm on by then.

In happy news, though: WE GOT RAIN!!!! REALLY REAL RAIN!! It woke me up this morning, and I thought, "what is that noise?" It took me about 2 minutes to figure out that I was hearing rain. How sad is that? Anyway, I knew Mom's been leaving her sunroof and windows cracked because of the heat, so I dashed downstairs and out the front door to make sure her car was closed. Thankfully, it was and all was well. We got about 1/3"!! YAY! Maybe the roaches will stay outside now.

Another happy story: Now that the little cats are ensconced in my bathroom upstairs, everytime I go to the bathroom, I get attention and love from three cats. Abby, in particular, gets really lovey - which is weird for her, since she's usually bitching. Hopefully, once I recover from this last DIY project, Mom and I can get the materials for the porch and we can put that together fast so the littles can move out there. Until then, I have them next door to me, which freaks me out sometimes, as they like to open the cabinets and make them close with a bang. They also play in the tub which is on the other side of the wall.

OMG, I just tried to add the "/" in my post subject heading, but my pinky went to the upper left side of the keyboard where it is on my phone's keyboard, instead of the lower right on my computer keyboard which I'm typing on. I must be tired or something.

So, here's the deal: Our a/c compressor is basically shot to shit and not coming back. It was only a couple of weeks ago that the last ARS guy came to fix the problem, which turned out to be a short in the power going to the compressor - someone had stripped/damaged the wires. At that time, he recharged the system with freon since the level was low and our system wasn't cooling as efficiently as it should have. Today, we had a guy come out - he was supposed to be here at 10, but showed up at 8:30, causing Mom to scramble - and he gave our system a bad prognosis. All of the freon has leaked out since the last recharge two weeks ago (sorry Earth/atmosphere! We didn't know!). This means that either we can have someone come out once every couple of weeks or so and recharge the freon at $300 a time, or replace the compressor. This decision is handled by Richard, our landlord, however. The ARS guy let Richard know this, and Richard told him and us that he needed time to decide. I hope he finally realizes that it would be cheaper in the long run to replace the compressor now for $1500 or whatever, instead of going to the hassle of getting someone out here and paying $300 per visit. Because 5 visits would make up what he would pay for a new compressor. I think he just doesn't want to pay that much for a rental property. However, this is still his and we're still renting, so he needs to do this. And we certainly need it. Day before yesterday, the air conditioner was only able to bring down the inside temperature to 80 when the outside was 100. Not good at all. So we're waiting to either hear back from Richard or have the ARS guy just show up again.

That causes problems because Mom and Sis have errands they have to do today. Mom needs to get new registration stickers for her and Sis (the reason I got a ticket a couple of weeks ago was because of the expired registration). Then they're going to look at carpet, because Sis says she won't move into her room unless there's new carpet and padding installed. I can kind of understand, since the three little cats have been living in there for a year, and Abby pees on the carpet at the baseboards all the time. She can't really help it too much because the poor thing only has one kidney, but it's also just a big fuck you to us. Mom and I are going to fence in the back patio at some point, which will allow the littles to live our there and Abby can pee to her hearts content. However, that project is probably not going to happen before Sis moves in in late July. We just have too many big expenses before then to deal with - the new carpet and movers for her stuff. Mom seemed to think that carpet replacement could be done room by room. Sis's room is only 120 sq ft. I tried to explain to her that most places either charge per sq ft for installation, or have a minimum number of sq ft to do before they'll throw in installation for free. OMG I JUST HAD A GREAT IDEA. We can maybe do the replacement ourselves. Not of regular carpet - we'd have to rent too many gadgets (stretchers, gluers, etc) - but carpet tiles. We can buy a new pad and then lay down carpet tiles instead. That shouldn't be too hard for us to do. And it'd work out to the same price of doing one room, and this way Mom wouldn't have to shell out $400, but maybe only half that. Must do research.

Back to the weather and a/c: I'm really thankful that today won't get as hot because we have decent cloud cover and a 20% chance of rain. It's only getting into the mid-90s unlike the mid-100s all last week. I'm praying for rain. If I knew how to do a rain dance, I would. I told mom she should go wash her car, because that always triggers the rain.

1) Fluffy, on being forced out of my room, decided to sneak scratch me. I now have three thin 2 inch long scratches down my right boob. Serves me right for wearing an ill-fitting tank top while trying to put out the cat. (It's one of those ones with a shelf bra in it... my ginormous boobs are no match for a tiny piece of elastic, and thus always cause the front to sneak down until I'm almost completely flashing. However, it's most comfortable.) I had to use three bandaids stacked on top of one another horizontally to cover the length of the scratches. Yay! Another set of cat-related scars on my body!

2) I should know better than to post in other communities. I always get some idiot who decides to be an asshole. Example: I posted a pic of George Clooney on a Vespa near his home at Lake Como, Italy a few weeks ago in the Eddie Izzard fan community. If you know of Eddie, then you probably know about his thing about Italians on scooters saying "Ciao" all sexy as they buzz around. So, my post was entitled, "This should be captioned "Ciaooooo...." The first poster decided to use ICanHasCheezburger's site to create such a captioned photo. Everyone else got the joke. Today, 2 weeks or so after the original post, some bitch decided to post and say, "What is this doing in an Eddie fan community?" So I politely explained about the "Ciao" thing. If she had been a mod or something, I would have been fine. It's the random stupid people I don't like. [/rant]

Oh, and 3) (sorry) It's FUCKING HOT AS HELL. And drier than.... well, something very dry. (I always say "the atacama" but so very few actually know about that desert it's just not worth it any more.) We've been without measurable rain for 30 straight days, and have only received 0.38 inches since May 1. If we don't get any rain at all before the end of June, it will be the driest May 1-June 30 period on record. And it's hitting over 100 degrees every day now. Icky icky. They're saying there's a slight chance for rain and cooler temps next week, but I'm dubious. And there are seabreeze showers headed inland every day (thank God), however we live far enough away from the coast that they tend to fizzle before we get them here. Grr. Those of you who live just about anywhere else and are seeing storms a lot, please pray that God talks to Gaia and sends some of that rain our way. We could really use it.

Got my injections this morning. The physician's assistant did them and not the doctor. Bad idea. I don't think she hit any of the nerves, which is kind of the point. Why should I have someone stick needles in my face if she doesn't hit the nerves? Basically, I'm going to wait over the weekend. If I'm not any better by Monday, I'm calling the doctor and talking to her about having them re-done. Also? The PA does the most annoying thing when giving the shots. She sticks you, which hurts, and then waits about 5 seconds before starting to inject the medicine. Which means IT HURTS A SHITLOAD MORE than if she just stuck and shot. She just doesn't come across as very bright, unlike my doctor. I LOVE MY NEUROLOGIST. She's so smart and no-nonsense.

Oh, other shitty thing for the day: Dad fucking called my neurologist. Why? Because he's an asshole and a control freak. I've spoken to him and e-mailed him on several occasions in the last two weeks since my last round of injections giving him a complete picture of what's going on with my headaches. Yet he has to intrude. Fucker. So, Dr. B had to come in and ask me if it was okay to talk to him and what all to tell him. I told her to go ahead and answer his questions, but be as succinct as possible and don't elaborate unless he asks. In my mandatory weekly update e-mail to the Bastards tonight, I will be asking very nicely for him to back the FUCK off. My life, my face, my treatment. He can get the info he needs from me, not bug the doctor. All it does is piss them off. Since I let Dr. B know about the abuse last time, the fact that she didn't go ahead and talk to him really makes me like her. As she said, "I wanted to check with you about this, especially in light of what you told me last time." Did I mention I love my neurologist?

Stopped by the craft store on the way home to get more yarn. I will be buying more before Sunday, because it's on sale. A skein that's normally $3 with tax was only $2 with tax today. Hell yes. I'm going to be making some squares for blankets for the victims of the Victoria, Australia fires. Check out the pattern here, for you knitters out there. I've e-mailed the woman who wrote the appeal for more specifics for the pattern, including number of stitches and rows. I'll update this post when/if I get a reply.

Oh! I almost forgot. I slipped down the stairs this morning on my way toward the door to leave for my dr's appointment. I don't know what happened. I was walking down the stairs, and then, all of the sudden, I was sliding on my butt. Bump bump bump. Sounded like a herd of cattle running down the stairs. My ass hurts. My right hand has a rug burn, and my left hand hurts because I caught it in the hand rail. I was so loud falling down the stairs that my sister came out of the bedroom. You can't hear the doorbell in there. That shows how loud my boot scoot down the stairs was. Mom usually says a prayer that I won't eat it on the stairs. I guess she forgot to do so last night. Oh, Lord. I just checked, and my right butt cheek is black and blue. I guess I'll be sleeping on my left side for the next week or so. *massive eyeroll*

I'm starting the piecing together of my blanket today. Once I get the whole thing together, I promise to post pictures.

Fluffy has decided that she needs to spend all of her time with me again. I've forgiven her for scaring me to death a couple of weeks ago when she almost broke our family antique lamp. Now she must spend time with me upstairs. I still try to kick her out at night because happy paws (kneading motion) and meows in my ear is not cool at 3am.

Okay. I think that's it.

Woke up at 8 FREAKING O'CLOCK this morning. After getting to bed at 3. Yeah. And, naturally, I couldn't go back to sleep for more than 15 minutes. Freaking sleep hygiene. So, it turned out that Mom went with Sis to her appointment, and then Sis took Mom to work. This worked out well for me and Mom, since that allowed me to take Mom's car to the neurologist's. Since the appointment was at 1:15 and Mom had to be at work at 3, I was afraid she wouldn't make it on time if she came with me. It turned out that I was right. I didn't even get called back to a room until 1:45 and didn't see the doctor until after 2. I didn't leave until after 3:15. It would have been very bad for Mom.

So: I did see the doc today. We talked. She looked at my headache tracking chart. I didn't realize it, but I'm having headaches every day, and bad headaches every three or so. We did more nerve blocks (about which I am still dubious), this time not in my neck, but on my face. HOLY CRAP. She did one in each temple and one under each eyebrow. OMFG are the nerves above my eyes painful. And that was before the injections. (I'm really glad I took the extra couple of minutes to pluck my eyebrows this morning!) I thought I was going to die of pain when the anesthetic and steroid was going in. I now know for a fact that I will NEVER be getting botoxed. It hurts too fucking much. I don't make a habit of cursing around my physicians as I find it tends to put them off. But I threw out both a "damn!" and an "Oh My GOD that REALLY FUCKING HURT." She took it in stride. She's so fabulous. I had to go ahead and disclose my abuse history, because both Mom and Sis thought it was a good idea to tell the doc, and that it might be partially causing the headaches. Wow. I was really impressed with the doc. She just looked so stunned. She asked some questions, but didn't pry more than was necessary. At the end of my appointment she told me that she thought I was really strong and was amazingly stable considering. She even gave me a hug instead of just shaking my hand. I really like her. I now have two doctors I feel I can trust completely - my ob/gyn (whom I trusted so much after just our first meeting that I let her perform major surgery on me just a few days later), and now my neurologist. Yay! Now, all I need is to learn to trust my pshrink. Baby steps.

The afternoon sucked. Then, I had to deal with the evil stepbitch. She has a whole list of rules of how she wants my sister and me to request of her to pay the bill for our prescriptions at the pharmacy. We have to call in the refills, then e-mail her between Monday and Thursday. She has to call only one Walgreens because it's the only one that has a manager willing to deal with her taking a credit card # over the phone. Most won't in order to protect against identity theft, or the possibility of liability if identity theft happened. I'm hoping that someday she's going to realize that she should put the card back on express pay so that we can pick up our scrips without having to bother her. But she's such a fucking control-freak that she probably won't let that happen. She bitched me out today because I called her after my appointment so I could get her to pay for the scrip the doctor had just called in. Had my appointment been yesterday, I would have just e-mailed her. But, since it had just been called in, and I needed the meds for tonight (the injections provoke a headache from the nerve irritation - they don't like having stuff injected in them and so yell back for a day or so). She will only call the walgreens between 8a-6p because that's when the manager works. And, if it's a Friday after 12, she's basically said we're out of luck until Monday. Well, I wasn't going to be in pain all weekend just because it would inconvenience her. So I called. It turned out that Sis called in her refills to the walgreens that's closer to her apartment instead of the one with the manager that agreed to The Stepbitch's terms (after she gave him phone sex). BIG SIN, according to TSB. So I got bitched at about both me calling her after 12 on a Friday, AND Sis' calling in her refills to the "wrong" walgreens. *MASSIVE EYE ROLL*

THEN... I stopped by Sonic and treated myself to a well-earned Route 44 Cherry Limeade (no lime rinds). I was sitting on my bed just about to open up Semagic and post, but Fluffy jumped on the bed. She startled me and I gripped the cup of limeade in reflex. Put my thumb right through the styrofoam. The hole was at the bump just above the bottom part of the cup. MY DRINK WAS ALMOST FULL. Approximately 40oz of cherry limeade started gushing out of the cup onto my bed, the lapdesk I use for my computer, my book sitting on the bed, the tv remote, and me. Soaked the mattress and the sheets. As I screeched when the ice hit my legs, the cat jumped from the bed across to the top of my dresser. She then proceeded to bump the cable box which pushed the family heirloom hobnail lamp to the FLOOR. I heard shattering glass, and screamed like someone had just stabbed me. Sis was downstairs asleep, and was startled so much that she ran upstairs to make sure I was okay. I was shaken and crying. I was fine, but I was afraid that the lamp was history. By the Grace of God, the lamp was unharmed, but the fluorescent bulb in it broke - the glass I heard breaking. OMG I was so worried about that lamp. Mom would have been incredibly upset if the lamp broke. She's taken a chance trusting me with the priceless family furniture, and I swore I would do everything to keep it in good shape. I intend to keep that promise. The cats are now no longer allowed in my room. Period. Which, in some ways, is a good thing for me, because they can bug me and interrupt my sleep.

I had to sit downstairs for two hours while my sheets washed and dried. My head began to ache. I'm now tired, my face hurts when I move it (particularly squeezing my eyes shut, so I guess I shouldn't do that), and have to pick up Mom in about 30 minutes and then go to the Walgreens to pick up my scrips. After that, I'm taking an extra 50mg of seroquel and passing out for about 10 hours. Weekend, here I come.

Enough bitching. Random non sequitur musing: I think Jason Cameron from DIY channel's "Desperate Landscapes" is somehow being paid under the table by growers of arborvitae. He puts one in every single landscape design he does. I mean, they're pretty, but... damn. Every. Single. Landscape. Where's the variety?

Got some stuff and nothing at all done today. Received my new computer glasses from dad's office (probably the only thing he's "giving" me this year for Christmas/my birthday, and he probably doesn't even know I ordered them - he's an ophthalmologist with an optical shop in the front of his office, so I just called the optician and ordered the glasses that I wanted that I picked out at the LensCrafters here in Houston... they are the wrong color, but I like them anyway). Finished Dreamcatcher by Stephen King. I'm still trying to figure out the ending... I tend to rush through the end of books so fast that it takes a while to process what actually ended up happening. I'm really liking having computer glasses again. I can see! Without glare! And without hurting my head! Basically, they're reading glasses with an anti-reflective coating and prescribed for the 1-2ft distance that you tend to sit from a computer. It also helps that it corrects the astigmatism, since trying to work without my glasses (what I do when reading a book because it's closer to my face and therefore less blurry - I'm only minimally nearsighted, but the astigmatism is horrible) hurts and is really blurry. Watched some TV. Slept a lot. I have what I'm now calling the 3 HouseCat-eers up here - Max, Andrew, and Cole - all sleeping on the bed. Fluffy will only stay up here when they're not. She spent a lot of time cuddling with me this afternoon when the boys were downstairs. The kitties really like my new room and the bigger bed. I wake up with at least one cat near me now. Andy's become really cute. He's now my guard cat. If he's not at my feet, he's on the floor at the foot of the bed, or in front of my door guarding the access to my room.

Blah. I think I'll go read my new book, Insomnia, also by King. I am finding his writing style very interesting and engaging. All I know is that I avoided his stuff for YEARS, and now all of the sudden I'm addicted. Huh.

I finally moved upstairs!! YAY!! I have an actual bed off the floor! I have a window, a closet, a dresser, and lamps that I don't have to cross a room to turn off. I also have PRIVACY. I could sleep naked if I wanted to (I don't). The only problem currently is that I don't have a tv. That will be remedied in a little over a week's time when the AT&T guy comes to install the box upstairs. Yay!

Fluffy has decided that my room is her new favorite place to be. It's comfy, and away from the boys. And near her litter box (she doesn't use the one downstairs because they do). The boys come and go, but she stays nearby.

The bed I'm sleeping on is one of our family heirlooms; a several-hundred-years-old mahogany sleigh bed with matching dresser. I also have one of the mahogany secretaries and a small mahogany table acting as my bedside table. Mom also let me have one of the cut-glass lamps (the base is Waterford crystal, looks kinda like this), and another awesome lamp. It's a Fenton Hobnail milk glass antique lamp - looks kind of like this. I love it. Being surrounded by furniture my family has had for generations gives me a very happy feeling.

It gets quiet up here at night, though. I can't wait for my tv. For now, I have my computer and set iTunes up so I can listen to non-stop classical (well, it's more like a whole bunch of songs from soundtracks, but it's instrumental, at least).

Last night I had a scare with my computer - I got the blue screen of death. It's been doing that more and more lately. I know my poor laptop's on its last legs. I am trying to save up money, but it's really hard. At least I know my next one can be fairly cheap, because I don't do much with it besides read my email, blogs, and play some online games that don't need a lot of heavy equipment to run. It's not like I'm playing WoW or something. It's just online solitaire and stuff. I dread the day when I can't get this thing to boot up at all. What will I do when I can't read my f-list any time I want?

We also re-arranged furniture downstairs. Mom decided that the living room layout wasn't good. So we pushed the loveseat to under the big window, and moved the wingback chair to the opposite side of the room next to the big secretary desk. The couch stayed basically in the same place. Wow, there is so much more space moving the loveseat. The room is now wide open instead of closed-off like before. I could do a workout video on the floor and have plenty of room in there now. It also helps that I'm not sleeping on a twin-size air mattress on the floor.

I'm tired. Gonna go to bed now, I think. Putting furniture together and moving couches has taken it out of me.

I've been MIA for a couple of days because 1) I've been driving both Mom and Sis around town A LOT, and 2) I'm now down with an opportunistic viral infection. Yep, I caught a fucking virus while knocking out the bacterial infection with antibiotics. Usually, this happens the other way around: I get something viral, like the flu, and end up also getting some kind of infection, usually sinus or bronchitis. I traced the possibility of infection to Tuesday when Sis and I ran all over creation buying things and eating. I could have picked up this nasty-ass germ from anyone in any one of the five different places we visited.

Tuesday, Sis and I went to Panera for lunch. I tried to work a little on ChaCha, but kept getting kicked out, so I gave up. We then went to Walmart to try and find me a jacket/coat for the fall/winter season that's basically just "Hey, it's a little colder out." Of course, that night we got a cold front that had us under a freeze warning. Didn't find anything in the way of outer wear at Wally World, but did find a nice shirt, and bought some underwear. Next, we went to Target, thinking that I would maybe find something there. And I did!!!! I found a lovely trench coat that's this shiny charcoal gray with a lighter shiny gray plaid over it. I LOVE IT. LOVE. LOVE. LOVE. It's not quite a jacket, and it's not quite a coat, so Sis started calling it my "jack-coat." Now I'm stuck saying it, too. We went to Michael's and I bought a little more yarn to make a scarf for my cousin-in-law. He's a high-powered Chicago lawyer, so he's getting a stately gray ribbed scarf. We then headed to Denny's where I turned Sis into a lover of mozzarella sticks dipped in ranch dressing. The look on her face was priceless - "Oh My God that is good!!"

Wednesday, I took Mom to work early and Sis and I headed over to her appointment with her dietitian. Her office is a little house in the Upper Kirby area of town. It was so nice outside that I sat on the porch swing and swung while waiting for Sis to finish her appointment. I loved it. I miss having a porch swing. We headed to Panera again. We ate, and talked about stuff. I brought her back to the house so she could do laundry, and I took a nap. She had to wake me to get me to drive and pick Mom up at work. We then all hung out a while until Mom took her home.

Yesterday, I woke up feeling so crappy. I was so tired, Mom had to drive to work, and I drove the car back. Sis finally convinced me to come out of hiding at about 8pm to go to IHOP with her. I was so nauseated from the virus that all I had was some toast and one egg. We talked about therapy and things, and then went to pick up Mom. As we were dropping Sis off at her apartment for the night, she showed Mom her hand. She was dancing in her bathroom Wednesday night and smacked her left hand against the wall. It is one giant swollen bruise covering the whole of the back of her left hand. When she says her pain level is a 7 of 10, you know it's serious, because she can handle pain like no one else I know. So Mom convinced her to let us take her to the ER and have it x-rayed. Because a good portion of the time, if she's smacked herself hard enough to bruise and swell, she's most likely got a fracture. Thankfully, the ER wasn't hopping and we got in and out in about 45 minutes. Her hand isn't broken, just a lot of soft tissue injury. That's thankfully easily treated. When I got home, I discovered that Andrew had peed all over my mattress. AAAAAHHHH! I was feeling shitty, AND I had to do two long loads of laundry to get the cat piss smell out of my bed. It still faintly reeks. I'm so upset. Mom finally found a pair of other sheets to put on the bed.

Today, I woke up feeling REALLY crappy. Running a fever, crappy. I had been up half of the night coughing. Mom came back from running errands at 2:30. She needed to get to work by 3. So I had to scramble to get dressed enough to drive her to work. I rode in the car to the place... I was so tired... I had forgotten my sunglasses, but at least managed to stick my drivers license and my credit card in my pocket along with my phone. I was driving back with Sis and was kinda fazed out of things. I almost ran into a guard rail at the toll booth. I did my best to hold it together until we got home... but it was really hard. I fell asleep pretty soon after we got home. Naturally, to continue the fun, one of the cats punctured a hole in my air mattress. I woke up with my hipbone painfully embedded in the floor. So I had to strip the whole bed and re inflate it in order to find the leak. I had the leak kit, which this time included not only patching material, but vinyl cement, so it will really adhere. I didn't feel like spending 12 hours waiting for it to set, so I stuck some duct tape over it to hold while it cured. I now have clean sheets on the bed, and soon I will have a clean comforter, too. Sis was over all day so that she could hand out candy to any wandering kids (I HATE that part of Halloween... think what you want about me, I just don't like putting on the fake "OMG your costume is so scary/cute/pretty/etc" thing). She fell asleep in Mom's room, so I turned out the lights in the front of the house, and I haven't heard one ding of the doorbell. FABULOUS. Must go get ready to pick up Mom, now.

My only sister (younger) turned 25.

We went to Benihana (a teppanyaki place.... MMMM).

The waitress took a picture of us as part of their "birthday" celebration - and my first thought was, "Damn, who's that whale that kinda looks like me??" I CANNOT wait to see the endocrinologist in 2 weeks. And, NO, I'm not uploading the photo for viewing.

Andrew got some hot pink icing on the white fur around his mouth while nosing into my piece of cake. He was actually able to lick it off. I was impressed, because the icing was that kind (like blue or purple) that seems to stain like a BITCH.

I realized Mom's birthday is now only 3 days away, so I bought her a card at the Walgreens when I picked up my meds. I put it on the Express Pay, which is linked to Dad's card (shhh don't tell him), so all is good.

Heroes has become even more confusing, and is starting to piss me off like LOST in its complexity. I'm trying to stick with it, but I need a freakin' map with strings.

Shirley Manson is getting better at acting... and creepier.

Speaking of meds, I haven't had my seroquel in a couple of days. Dude... I am totally fucked up without it. I have been tossing and turning for the past 72 hours straight. But in that bad "I"m so fucking tired but my eyes feel like they're propped open a la Clockwork Orange" way. For those of you not (somehow in this nutty world) not familiar with psych meds, seroquel is an anti-psychotic used in bipolars to lessen mania (and also make you sleepy). Well, without it, I was totally manic, but also depressed, so I flopped like a fish on the bed trying to sleep. Poor Max just finally gave up cuddling after being kicked repeatedly. I had to end up taking 10mg of ambien these past two nights (which is twice the normal dose). I'm gonna run out sooner than my refill. GRR.

To end on a happy note: I have leftovers. *grin*

ETA: FREAKING Walgreens didn't put in the fucking seroquel!! DAMMIT!

ETA2: I had to go out at 4 fuckin' am in order to get it because the damn pharmacist (who works all alone at night woe) couldn't get it together in fewer than 30 minutes. What??!?

ETA3: Whataburger has a chick that works there at 4 am that must be a mathlete. I gave her 4 dollar bills for $3.52. She handed me one back saying, "No, 3... oh. Wait." I just gave her that "Uh-huh..." look. My interior monologue: "No wonder they have her work the overnight shift."

One of the cats just threw up all over my bed (the air mattress on the floor). I have to wait until Mom's clothes finish going through their cycle in order to put my sheets in. Dammit. I am really pissed.

The puking happened while I was distracted with Fishie (a.k.a. Arcturus). He's looking depressed, or sick - but since he's dark, I can't tell about the green around the gills (my best version of fish humor). I cleaned his tank, and he's now at least not floating in one corner. I've already had him for a year. I know most bettas don't last more than 2, but still. I don't want him to go just yet. Here is picture of Fish in his old tank, taken by Heather a long time ago:


He now lives in a large tank with a bubbling filter, but the same lame greenery. But he likes to sleep in them, so I kept them.

Mom's getting cranky. Her interview for the nurse manager position for her unit (basically she'd be the nurse in charge of all the other nurses on the unit - a big deal and a big promotion) is tomorrow. She's really really nervous, so she's very snippy today. Which is fine, and I understand it, but I wish she would have told me first. She doesn't seem to realize that she's taking everything I say with a nasty tinge that I do not mean at all. At least now I know why she's being snippy, and can stay out of her way and say really neutral things until tomorrow.

Now, the neighbors are pressure washing the whole house. Will it never end??

I finally finished my book. And now I'm starting on the last one currently in the series. I'll be so sad when I finish it, because I'm so attached to these characters I have dreams about them and situations in the books. The new one in the series will hopefully be published in 2009 (according to the author's website), along with a new story in graphic novel form. I might have to actually read a graphic novel if it contains these characters. I've started casting the book in my head, though there is no movie in the works. I wonder if there ever will be - the characters are drawn so thoroughly that attaching real people to them would somehow diminish them, I think.

Mom and I got chinese food last night. One of the things we tried at this new place was their barbecue spare ribs. I've had better. These were covered liberally with sauce... and the sauce wasn't that great. They tasted a lot better once you washed off all the sauce on the outside. Max, our alley-cat turned love-muffin, was so crazed that we had barbecue that he kept sticking his paw out trying to grab the bones out of our hands, or off the plate. Since these were big ribs, I finally relented and let him have a bone to gnaw on. He was in kitty heaven. He just proves the adage: "You can take the cat out of the alley, but you can't take the alley out of the cat."