12,904 Days Alive
1 PB&J Eaten for Dessert
Do I get bonus points for using a mildly obscure word that basically boils down to being as stubborn as a mule?
I’m trying to get better at a lot of things. Getting sleep is one of them, but tonight didn’t work out how I planned.
I haven’t really heard from MJ much today; that was a little disheartening, but people get busy. I’ve gotten so used to chatting with him and checking in at the end of the day over the last few weeks, it seems odd kilter to not do so. Oh well. Maybe he’ll resurface tomorrow. Gods knows the man needs sleep.
Work was mad stressful today and I didn’t get everything done that I needed to in the time I had which was very frustrating. And since there’s no overtime allowed at work, I can’t go in early or stay late to fix it. I hope the rest of the week goes a little easier.
I think I’ve got my NaNoWriMo schedule figured out. I’ll write for at least two hours every day in November, from about six-thirty when I feel Spock and take my meds till about seven thirty or eight. If I’m on a roll, I can push it till nine or take a break and play World of Warcraft for that last hour. It means no really crocheting time except before bed or if I’ve hit my word count for the day, but sacrifices must be made for a goal to be accomplished.
Mentally… I ain’t doing too hot. I’m lonely and sad and stressed and suicidal. I have my last appointment with Vickie tomorrow afternoon. Since I haven’t really connected with her other than on a very shallow, superficial level, I’m hoping she isn’t too upset. She’s a good therapist, just not the right one for me. And there’s no telling if the next one, the one I have scheduled on 3rd November, will be any better. But I have to take the chance.
Anyway; I’m tired. So I’m going to head to bed.
Take your meds, folks.
Postmark Wonderland 