it is no fun having vastly different taste in music than Doc. And he’s so gracious and listens to mine constantly so when he asks to listen to his, there is no way I would say no to him. And his music makes me want to go for a long walk.
I’m in a “can’t do anything right” mode right now and I want to crawl into a hole. A nice, comfy hole that’s deep and far away.
I just outlasted my medications. As in I didn’t give into them and go to sleep. I drank coffee and made myself stay awake. And now I’m feeling more awake.
I’ve noticed a problem with my balance the last couple of days. Doc thinks it’s just when I take the Seroquel because it makes me stumble around. But it isn’t as severe as the Seroquel stumbles. But I’ll go along with him. Hell, I have no idea what my meds should do to me. Once I get back online I can look up Cymbalta and see what the side effects are besides nausea (which hasn’t happened to me) and drowsiness (which I don’t notice since I take it before bed).
“When I get back online” seems to be coming up a lot. I didn’t care at fist because I’m not on it every day and I can go without email for a few days. But as the days go on, I realize all the things I rely on the internet for. Gathering information. And I need my information. What good is the news if I have no blogs to explain it to me in any spin I desire?
. . . I cleaned the cat box, did the ironing, started the laundry and tidied both Doc’s rooms and mine. Doc is out running errands. I wanted to have some things done before he got home. He’s been in a bad mood and I’m trying in the small ways that I can to make him happy. That’s what marriage is all about, right? One partner helping the other and vice versa.
I also found a pair of Doc’s shorts to wear. He’s right, of course, I feel much better in shorts than I do in my camouflage pants or my jeans. I just don’t like my legs showing.