Good morning, Readers.
Warning: this post is entirely banal. If you're looking for excitement, try YouTube.
This morning I woke up to a thin blanket of snow. Snow! At last! It really is stunningly beautiful outside, but I couldn't get as excited about the snow as I normally do.
I'm putting this down to the fact that I had a fever, and couldn't muster up the strength to do much of anything except roll out of bed and onto the floor.
This weekend has been a bit of a pill for me. I received some pretty upsetting financial news that is, in fact, entirely my fault and I am still really, really mad at myself about it. There's nothing I can do, however, but to soldier through it. It's been incredibly stressful. So naturally, after all the stress and the violent self-loathing (I am an idiot... also, not really violent... though the sobbing was a little extreme), I became ill. It's really the perfect cap to a perfect weekend.
That was heavily sarcastic, in case you needed clarification.
Friday night was nice, despite the worries being on the back of my mind. I spent the evening with Dad's amateur theatre troop, watching their play and enjoying a good meal (dinner theatre for the win!). As I had a small table set aside just for myself, and got personal attention from the very lovely wait staff, people were giving me odd looks.
At the end of the evening, someone came up and asked if I was a famous artist or something. After all, I received 'special' treatment all night. I sadly explained in my very broken French that no, I was not anyone famous, just the daughter of the director of the troop. Looking back, I should have said I was a famous novelist. Oh well!
Saturday I had no obligations except the monthly meetup in the evening, so I headed to the bank to see what could be done. Nothing, as it happens. So I went grocery shopping, came home and had a good cry. Again. Then, needing to keep my mind and hands occupied, I cleaned the kitchen. The kitchen, incidentally, looks fan-fucking-tastic now. I took a nap after I finished the kitchen... and very nearly slept through the meetup. Thank heavens for Persephone, who decided it was time to wake me up... just in time for me to dash out the door while swearing maniacally. She wanted cuddles, and I'm sure was very unimpressed.
The meetup was fantastic. I had been concerned at the beginning of the week that it would be just me, then I received a message from someone who had received my book in the mail and wanted it signed, so was coming. Then I two more lovely friends decided to show after a last minute change in plans, as did another friend. All in all, there were five of us, and it was great fun. Thanks everyone for coming out!
Sunday I woke up with a sore throat and a fever. It was only mild, but boy did it sap all the energy out of my limbs. I stayed in bed all day. Feeling gross from not doing anything, I decided to reverse my earlier decision to not do anything and in the early evening went ahead and cleaned the wash room which, incidentally, looks fan-fucking-tastic now.
Then, though I didn't quite reach my goal of getting the entire house clean before the Amazing Flatmate returns, I went to bed early, feeling as if I had achieved something. Only to wake up an hour later with the sudden realisation that I hadn't edited this week's episode of Nights at the Round Table for Silver Stag Entertainment yet.
Can I just say - fastest edit ever. It normally takes me a good three hours to edit. I was done in an hour, spent a half hour checking it over to make sure it was alright. Mind you, my brain wasn't exactly functioning properly, so it's likely not my best work. Still, it's edited and uploaded and will be going live tonight on schedule.
This morning, I awoke before my alarm and lay in bed trying to get back to sleep. Does anyone else find it weird how to get well one must sleep a lot, but being ill prevents any proper sleep? Doesn't seem fair, really. Anyway, I cuddled the kitties for a bit before my alarm sounded, and then I fell out of bed.
That awful vague feeling you get when you're unwell plagued me this morning. I went through the motions of getting ready; boiled up my eggs for breakfast, put on clothes (they were even the right way around), brushed my hair etc. I packed my lunch and left.
Roughly halfway to work I realised that I had left my house keys on the coffee table and then I couldn't remember if I had turned off the stove after making my eggs. Images of the cats scratching desperately at the closed windows as smoke and flames filled the house raced through my mind. I panicked a bit, my heart did the whole spasming thing it does whenever a panic attack hits and I almost burst into tears right on the footpath.
In my defence, it's been a rough few days, I am sick and my imagination is one powerful beast, alright?
Anyway, I got into work and the first thing I did was try to contact the Amazing Flatmate to try and get her sister or her mother. Then, realising I have the power of Google, I managed to find them myself and Amazing Flatmate's very awesome mother went 'round the apartment to make sure I didn't burn the place down, the cats weren't fried crispy and I would have means of getting into the apartment today.
Seriously, that whole family is wonderful. I will buy some flowers or something for her to say thank you.
As it happens, of course I had turned the stove off before I left this morning. I was panicking for no reason.
I am relieved. I am also very embarrassed. At the age I am now, you would think that I have my shite together. Nope.
Also, on my way to work this morning, my fever broke. That was uncomfortable. I arrived to work soaked through, and not because it was snowing the whole time I walked (it was, but I was dressed for it). But at least the fever is gone, so it's not all bad.
I am trying very hard not to beat myself up over the past few days, all of which is my fault. It's hard to be gentle with myself at this juncture, though. The stupid is strong with this one.
Thus endeth my weekend. It wasn't terribly exciting, just stressful and upsetting. In happier news, though, with my birthday now behind me, I am expecting my current depressive low to start abating. Stephen Fry once said of these moods that they are like the weather - you cannot control them and they will, eventually, stop. Hoping those grey clouds will part soon.
In the meantime, I'm going to enjoy my coffee, watch the snow fall outside and attempt to get my fuzzy brain to work on the next Welsh lesson. Wish me luck.
Warning: this post is entirely banal. If you're looking for excitement, try YouTube.
This morning I woke up to a thin blanket of snow. Snow! At last! It really is stunningly beautiful outside, but I couldn't get as excited about the snow as I normally do.
I'm putting this down to the fact that I had a fever, and couldn't muster up the strength to do much of anything except roll out of bed and onto the floor.
This weekend has been a bit of a pill for me. I received some pretty upsetting financial news that is, in fact, entirely my fault and I am still really, really mad at myself about it. There's nothing I can do, however, but to soldier through it. It's been incredibly stressful. So naturally, after all the stress and the violent self-loathing (I am an idiot... also, not really violent... though the sobbing was a little extreme), I became ill. It's really the perfect cap to a perfect weekend.
That was heavily sarcastic, in case you needed clarification.
Friday night was nice, despite the worries being on the back of my mind. I spent the evening with Dad's amateur theatre troop, watching their play and enjoying a good meal (dinner theatre for the win!). As I had a small table set aside just for myself, and got personal attention from the very lovely wait staff, people were giving me odd looks.
At the end of the evening, someone came up and asked if I was a famous artist or something. After all, I received 'special' treatment all night. I sadly explained in my very broken French that no, I was not anyone famous, just the daughter of the director of the troop. Looking back, I should have said I was a famous novelist. Oh well!
Saturday I had no obligations except the monthly meetup in the evening, so I headed to the bank to see what could be done. Nothing, as it happens. So I went grocery shopping, came home and had a good cry. Again. Then, needing to keep my mind and hands occupied, I cleaned the kitchen. The kitchen, incidentally, looks fan-fucking-tastic now. I took a nap after I finished the kitchen... and very nearly slept through the meetup. Thank heavens for Persephone, who decided it was time to wake me up... just in time for me to dash out the door while swearing maniacally. She wanted cuddles, and I'm sure was very unimpressed.
The meetup was fantastic. I had been concerned at the beginning of the week that it would be just me, then I received a message from someone who had received my book in the mail and wanted it signed, so was coming. Then I two more lovely friends decided to show after a last minute change in plans, as did another friend. All in all, there were five of us, and it was great fun. Thanks everyone for coming out!
Sunday I woke up with a sore throat and a fever. It was only mild, but boy did it sap all the energy out of my limbs. I stayed in bed all day. Feeling gross from not doing anything, I decided to reverse my earlier decision to not do anything and in the early evening went ahead and cleaned the wash room which, incidentally, looks fan-fucking-tastic now.
Then, though I didn't quite reach my goal of getting the entire house clean before the Amazing Flatmate returns, I went to bed early, feeling as if I had achieved something. Only to wake up an hour later with the sudden realisation that I hadn't edited this week's episode of Nights at the Round Table for Silver Stag Entertainment yet.
Can I just say - fastest edit ever. It normally takes me a good three hours to edit. I was done in an hour, spent a half hour checking it over to make sure it was alright. Mind you, my brain wasn't exactly functioning properly, so it's likely not my best work. Still, it's edited and uploaded and will be going live tonight on schedule.
This morning, I awoke before my alarm and lay in bed trying to get back to sleep. Does anyone else find it weird how to get well one must sleep a lot, but being ill prevents any proper sleep? Doesn't seem fair, really. Anyway, I cuddled the kitties for a bit before my alarm sounded, and then I fell out of bed.
That awful vague feeling you get when you're unwell plagued me this morning. I went through the motions of getting ready; boiled up my eggs for breakfast, put on clothes (they were even the right way around), brushed my hair etc. I packed my lunch and left.
Roughly halfway to work I realised that I had left my house keys on the coffee table and then I couldn't remember if I had turned off the stove after making my eggs. Images of the cats scratching desperately at the closed windows as smoke and flames filled the house raced through my mind. I panicked a bit, my heart did the whole spasming thing it does whenever a panic attack hits and I almost burst into tears right on the footpath.
In my defence, it's been a rough few days, I am sick and my imagination is one powerful beast, alright?
Anyway, I got into work and the first thing I did was try to contact the Amazing Flatmate to try and get her sister or her mother. Then, realising I have the power of Google, I managed to find them myself and Amazing Flatmate's very awesome mother went 'round the apartment to make sure I didn't burn the place down, the cats weren't fried crispy and I would have means of getting into the apartment today.
Seriously, that whole family is wonderful. I will buy some flowers or something for her to say thank you.
As it happens, of course I had turned the stove off before I left this morning. I was panicking for no reason.
I am relieved. I am also very embarrassed. At the age I am now, you would think that I have my shite together. Nope.
Also, on my way to work this morning, my fever broke. That was uncomfortable. I arrived to work soaked through, and not because it was snowing the whole time I walked (it was, but I was dressed for it). But at least the fever is gone, so it's not all bad.
I am trying very hard not to beat myself up over the past few days, all of which is my fault. It's hard to be gentle with myself at this juncture, though. The stupid is strong with this one.
Thus endeth my weekend. It wasn't terribly exciting, just stressful and upsetting. In happier news, though, with my birthday now behind me, I am expecting my current depressive low to start abating. Stephen Fry once said of these moods that they are like the weather - you cannot control them and they will, eventually, stop. Hoping those grey clouds will part soon.
In the meantime, I'm going to enjoy my coffee, watch the snow fall outside and attempt to get my fuzzy brain to work on the next Welsh lesson. Wish me luck.
I stumbled across this this morning, and it made me laugh out loud, so I thought I'd share. Thanks Wrongcards.com (click for link)!
Ciao!
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