Falling through the sky…

I have two scrapes on the back of my hand from smashing it two different times on the bottom of the stair railing. As it turns out, there is a rather sharp edge on the end of the railing. They don’t look like much, but son of a mother they hurt. It should also be mentioned that I was carrying a laundry basket both times and therefore must stand by my claim: Laundry is fucking dangerous.

I’m convinced whoever did all of the wood work in this house when it was built purposely made every possible wood edge as sharp as fuck because I have gouged out more chunks of skin in the last two years than I have in the last 33 combined.

We’ve been in our house two years (as of the 15th at least) already. Holy crap.

We went to Target this week and if the damn pharmacy keeps moving up my auto-refills I’m going to have my pills a full month in advance. It was the first time taking my new phone out of the house. It wouldn’t fit in my jeans pocket and I didn’t want to put it in my purse until I get a screen protector for it and walking into the store I realized I had suddenly become one of those assholes. One who can’t walk through a damn store without my fucking phone at the immediate disposal of my face. Bob put it in his shirt pocket to spare me further self-loathing. We looked at screen protectors and ended up not buying the one generic option they had because it was twenty bucks for a pack of three when Amazon sells the same thing actually made for my phone (Samsung Galaxy S2) for about three dollars including shipping. Out of all of the screen protectors I’ve looked at on Amazon not one option exceeds $5. WTF with the $20, Target? I am not paying twenty bucks for STICKERS. And I love me some stickers.

I had a dream about suffocating due to not being able to breathe through my nose. (Sounds startlingly familiar to reality as of late.) When I woke up, I was physically gasping for air. I was actually capable of [mostly] breathing through my nose at the time so I have no idea if it was a reaction to the dream or if I had actually stopped breathing. Either way it was disturbing as all hell and there was no going back to sleep.

In related news, I’m back on the “sleep two hours at a time” bullshit schedule. Ask me if I’m happy about that. Go ahead. I dare you.

Speaking of dreams nobody cares about, I had one this week that started the gears turning on a possible new story idea. Because what I really need right now is another story project to throw in the fire. I’m only pushing about twenty different projects around in my head right now. Granted probably half of them are just brain purges, but still.

My ADHD Card, let me play it for you.

Love Comes Tumbling Down
Matt Nathanson

Something to say?