Anxiously Staring at the Wall

Help! Drowning in snot over here. I have been for weeks. Longest way to die ever. I wish there was a way I could be more optimistic about dying from allergies, but a quick Google search tells me that unless it’s a peanut allergy, I just have to deal with it, and whine to anyone who is able to extend a modicum of pity toward me.

Clementine is NOT helping my mood.

One sip of water, and bam, she puts it on the floor on its top. Thanks, lady. I refuse to clean it up. That’s right. This is what I’m taking a stand over, and I don’t care what any of you have to say. I may have shrieked in frustration, making all the cats stand in frozen terror.

There were so many things that have made today terrible in so many ways, and I fear George is giggling behind some corner ready to ambush me, and it is making me very sensitive, and whiny (see above). I’m going to shut his mouth with two Benadryl and a beer very shortly. However, there was this (finally) waiting for me this afternoon:

Limited edition 7” single from the Magnetic Fields’ forthcoming album. A chicken on the front! And a free digital download. A very lovely package of happiness.

I also purchased a really cute turquoise spring dress on eBay. For $13. I felt it was the right thing to do. One day it will stop raining, and I can wear it with my awesome red Fluevog booties. Also, one day, I will stop sneezing. If all goes well, this will coincide with the rain stopping. Fingers crossed.

Before I succumb to allergy death, I’m going to wax on in a nauseating way about how much I adore CSP, brace yourselves—specifically how he didn’t make fun of me at all when I woke up screaming during a thunderstorm. Nothing like an anxiety disorder to make for some potentially embarrassing moments. For the record, it was one magnificently loud clap of thunder. I completely thought for a moment that glass was shattering, and somehow that I was being smote by lightning. I may also suffer from an overactive imagination. So, CSP, squeezes me, and assures me that everything is fine, and nothing is broken, and there’s nothing for me to be embarrassed about, and oh, swoon. The way he cares for me makes me out myself online for being scared of thunderstorms. What an asshole!

And with that, I really need to go to bed. I’m going to read some, and then tomorrow, see if I remember any of it. That’s a fun game I like to play when I’m suffocating on my own mucus. Raise your hand if you think I’m sexy.

PS: I caved and cleaned up the water that Clem spilled. My cheap IKEA coffee table was swimming in it, and I had visions of the legs crumbling in to a soggy wet mess. I rewarded myself with a Newcastle, and two hot-pink pills of guaranteed-sleep bliss.

PPS: I caught this guy knocking over Fernando the chicken, then staring at the wall all innocently, but he can’t disguise the anxiety propping open those large eyes.