Listen, I know narcotics are evil and wrong in a recreational context, but I sleep so well, all cranked down on Darvocet. Also, I dreamt about JC last night, the first time in forever. It was like a little gift. I got to watch him rehearsing, him and the dancers in front of a big mirror, and he was wearing the pants I like so much, the ones from a few days ago. Then he had to go to his job at the bookshop and I had to go pick my car up from the mechanic, but first I left a note for him telling him I knew he liked Scott Baio, but I was not watching that show again. Ahahahaha!! digital_diva, it's all your fault. thanks, omg
One question before I go shovel out the bathroom in honor of my pending houseguests: how do sick people do it? I mean, my god, I have to take one pill every six hours, four pills a day. Easy, right? Yet I have had to construct an enormous chart with days and times and little ticky boxes, and yet I STILL don't know if I'm on track. Every six hours or so I look at the chart and say, self? Did you take the pill and forget to mark the ticky box? Or was that last night? What day is it, anyway? Why am I such a loser?