I’m having a flare right now, exhausted with no energy whatsoever. I don’t care about much of anything.
I drool when I sleep. It’s really kinda gross.
It’s weird, I can sit here and type slowly, giving myself time to think of a word, but when I am talking, I barely make sense. I couldn’t get the word “wardrobe” correct this morning when my husband noticed that my tank top had accidentally revealed one of my boobs while I tossed and turned during the night.
I wanted to say “wardrobe malfunction,” but failed miserably. At least my husband knew what I was trying to spit out and fixed it for me.
The word, by the way. Not the other thing. I fixed that myself.
I suppose I’m also bummed out and having a harder time staying in a positive mood.
This time of the year, when it’s dark, cold and grey outside, really messes with me. I want to hibernate like a fucking bear, wrapped up in my heating blanket.
But I have a low-grade fever, which indicates that a flare is in progress.
So, I am hot and cold, cold and hot.
I get restless and extremely bored. I want to break free and do something risky.
I try to post something (anything) each day just so that I feel like I accomplished something of value.
People around me are out in the world, living their lives, so busy that they can barely find a moment to fart. And here I am, making 3 major transitions throughout my day.
My bed. My computer chair. My couch.
Not to bitch and whine (too late,) but I really find myself envious of healthier people.
Okay, that’s enough venting for one day. It’s off to Nappy Land for me.