Someone smells like cigarettes around here. It's funny how sometimes the smell of cigarettes can linger as two different scents--sometimes it is like a currently lit cigarette, and other times it is the horrible stench of an ashtray. Right now it is the latter, and it is paining me to no end. I don't know who it is, because as far as I am aware, none of the Ex-Cop group smokes. My allergies are really bad today, and therefore, I think my nose is being extra sensitive. I'm all sniffly and sneezy. Ask CSP, he came by my desk this morning (surprise!), and boy was I a hot mess. Le sigh.
Thus, I am grumpy. My allergies suck and it stinks in here. I didn't sleep well, either. Last week, after complaining to my psychiatrist that I had a serious worry that I was having early-onset dementia, she took me off the Ambien, and put me on Trazodone (or Trazobone as Fink-Nottle calls it for its priapism side effect), which I have yet to start. I accidentally forgot my Ambien Friday night, and actually slept pretty well, so I didn't take it Saturday night, and that was a success, too. Last night failed. I was pretty awake, and it was likely due to being keyed-up over a certain matter that I'm not going to get in to here (but having to do with two separate worlds colliding, which is actually happening twice in two separate instances, so that would be two worlds of mine colliding with two different worlds of mine, making four worlds all colliding, with two of the four keeping me awake last night--do I need to draw a diagram?). Ahem. The point is I am not on any brain-altering drugs of any kind, and haven't been since my last pill Thursday night. I am on allergy medication, but you can pretty much assume that I am always on those. I call those my Life pills.
If I am still having memory problems off of Ambien, then I am going to visit a neurologist. I'm really starting to freak out over how much my brain is not retaining. I'm talking whole conversations just drop out of it. I have no idea what I have been saying and who have I been saying it with. What if I told the wrong person that I love touching my breast? Wait, that's not a secret. Never mind. Still, it is affecting me adversely. I hate it when people repeat the same stories, and if I can't remember if I told you something, I'm going to end up repeating myself, and that will suck for both of us. I'll be filled with shame. This is the problem about having such high standards of people--I hang my head in despair when I can't meet my own expectations. Then there's the whole problem of forgetting what I said I would do at work. Not that anyone would notice--Twit's been doing that for two years now, and it doesn't seem to get in her way. Still, it makes me sad, and I really don't want to be this kind of crazy in my mid-30s. Here's to hoping it was just the Ambien lingering in my system!
Yesterday I dropped a box of nonfiction books on my face (blame my weak upper-body strength, and that I am too short to reach certain shelves). As far as I can tell, my allergies are causing more damage than that did. I also played one-handed croquet, and seem to be a natural at it (I did not win, but I pulled off some amazing shots for a first-timer). It helped that I wasn't drunk, but then again, a drunk person won, but she has played a lot more croquet in her life than me. She also asked me what my damage was, which is insanely funny. I tried to get her head on the ground, so I could do her some damage, but it didn't quite work out that way. Heathers references will probably always remain endearing to my age group. C&L throw such swell parties--they also feed me hot dogs, so I am obligated to say that no matter what.
No, I am not any closer to revealing what has kept me so occupied these last few weeks. I apologize. It's a hot flame that burns the functioning parts of my brain every time I get near it. Remind me in a couple of days that I have something to tell you, because I will have probably already forgotten, and I'll see if I can get any closer to actually putting it in to words.
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Update: Ivy Vyne really needed a diagram of my worlds colliding. This is really simple, and will probably embarrass her once she sees how simple it really is. Last night it was the red and blue worlds colliding. The purple and yellow have been colliding for around a week or so now. Yes, scribbling is the universal language of a collision. Thank you.
Thus, I am grumpy. My allergies suck and it stinks in here. I didn't sleep well, either. Last week, after complaining to my psychiatrist that I had a serious worry that I was having early-onset dementia, she took me off the Ambien, and put me on Trazodone (or Trazobone as Fink-Nottle calls it for its priapism side effect), which I have yet to start. I accidentally forgot my Ambien Friday night, and actually slept pretty well, so I didn't take it Saturday night, and that was a success, too. Last night failed. I was pretty awake, and it was likely due to being keyed-up over a certain matter that I'm not going to get in to here (but having to do with two separate worlds colliding, which is actually happening twice in two separate instances, so that would be two worlds of mine colliding with two different worlds of mine, making four worlds all colliding, with two of the four keeping me awake last night--do I need to draw a diagram?). Ahem. The point is I am not on any brain-altering drugs of any kind, and haven't been since my last pill Thursday night. I am on allergy medication, but you can pretty much assume that I am always on those. I call those my Life pills.
If I am still having memory problems off of Ambien, then I am going to visit a neurologist. I'm really starting to freak out over how much my brain is not retaining. I'm talking whole conversations just drop out of it. I have no idea what I have been saying and who have I been saying it with. What if I told the wrong person that I love touching my breast? Wait, that's not a secret. Never mind. Still, it is affecting me adversely. I hate it when people repeat the same stories, and if I can't remember if I told you something, I'm going to end up repeating myself, and that will suck for both of us. I'll be filled with shame. This is the problem about having such high standards of people--I hang my head in despair when I can't meet my own expectations. Then there's the whole problem of forgetting what I said I would do at work. Not that anyone would notice--Twit's been doing that for two years now, and it doesn't seem to get in her way. Still, it makes me sad, and I really don't want to be this kind of crazy in my mid-30s. Here's to hoping it was just the Ambien lingering in my system!
Yesterday I dropped a box of nonfiction books on my face (blame my weak upper-body strength, and that I am too short to reach certain shelves). As far as I can tell, my allergies are causing more damage than that did. I also played one-handed croquet, and seem to be a natural at it (I did not win, but I pulled off some amazing shots for a first-timer). It helped that I wasn't drunk, but then again, a drunk person won, but she has played a lot more croquet in her life than me. She also asked me what my damage was, which is insanely funny. I tried to get her head on the ground, so I could do her some damage, but it didn't quite work out that way. Heathers references will probably always remain endearing to my age group. C&L throw such swell parties--they also feed me hot dogs, so I am obligated to say that no matter what.
No, I am not any closer to revealing what has kept me so occupied these last few weeks. I apologize. It's a hot flame that burns the functioning parts of my brain every time I get near it. Remind me in a couple of days that I have something to tell you, because I will have probably already forgotten, and I'll see if I can get any closer to actually putting it in to words.
______________________________________________
Update: Ivy Vyne really needed a diagram of my worlds colliding. This is really simple, and will probably embarrass her once she sees how simple it really is. Last night it was the red and blue worlds colliding. The purple and yellow have been colliding for around a week or so now. Yes, scribbling is the universal language of a collision. Thank you.
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