Cydniey Buffers (cydniey) wrote,
Cydniey Buffers
cydniey

Dear Diary, Day One

Dear Diary,


I slept on my new super fluffy pillow on Doc’s couch last night. I woke up at 2:30am to a bunch of texts from Doc. About fifteen minutes after I woke up, he landed in Cincinnati for a three hour layover. So we texted, (since his number is local, I can text it for free, (I get charged a third of a minute for each short long distance text, two thirds of a minute with the size texts I usually send), so we went on for almost an hour. He’s doing good, so far. There are a couple of things he forgot that I have to send him today, but mostly he got out with what he needed.


I’m doing pretty good this morning. There is FB silliness to enjoy and I have my quiet time. News and electric light and trips outside to play with the animals and smoke.


I don’t know what my motivation level is going to be today, but there are a few things I want to do around the house. Like dishes and vacuuming. Then I will start to work on the rest of the trash heap that is this house. I have book shelves to organize and boxes to break down in the garage, and my studio to put back together, now that I have carpet for it. So much stuff. I want to rake the yard, as well. Get it ready for a tortoise. Oh, and part of that is hoing and planting the wildflower seeds and then remembering to water them. I checked, and the variety I got are all safe for tortoises. So that will give us some dirt retention during wind, and the critter something fresh to munch on. And things to take pictures of.


Ahhh, see, I was afraid of this. The psychosomatic pain has started. I was wondering what symptom would be first on the scene that isn’t controlled by my meds. This is the one. I took some Tylenol, but I don’t even think Vicodin would stop this. I’ll take it over depression, though. Any time. It’s the left side of my neck, down my shoulder and upper arm. And it got all weak, I can’t even lift my coffee. This should fade, as I relax. This is just first day jitters.


Oh my sweet christ . . . J is calling Doc in Philadelphia, insisting urgently that he call her. Too bad she doesn’t read my facebook, she would know he isn’t in town and can’t come resue her right now. Stupid cunt. Sorry, honey, he’s gone, you’ll have to save yourself. Where’s Doc’s scooter?


I’m so tired of these two. I just want them out of our lives.

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