12,537 Days Alive
1 Singing Cat
My cat Spock is going bonkers for no apparent reason, singing the song of his people at top volume.
I don’t know what nargles he sees, but I’m okay just not knowing.
I’m so low on spoons this evening. I wanted to crochet, get some writing done. But here I am crawling into bed at not yet ten.
I worked through lunch today; got approved for a little extra time. I liked being able to knock out that extra hour and a half of work with clocking on early and leaving late. I finally felt productive.
Mentally, I’m actually doing pretty okay. Tired, but happy. The suicidal radio is playing quietly in a back room with the door shut. I still need to find a good counselor or therapist. I’m thinking a Skype style one might be a good thing, if I can afford it? I know my current health insurance won’t cover anything like that, unfortunately.
I got told that I’m doing well at work, which is amazing considering how self critical I can be about just about everything.
I have a fairly long to-do list for tomorrow, so I’m going to wrap this up and hit the pillows for the night.
Take your meds, folks.
Postmark Wonderland 