Oct. 2nd, 2006 10:49 am
dianadragonfly: (Default)
I hate Mondays.
Hate them hate them hate them.

I'm just this ball of pissed offness.

I know it's a lack of zoloft and I need to go get some NOW. But I'm too pissed at this point.


Oct. 2nd, 2006 12:29 am
dianadragonfly: (Default)
Hubby was supposed to pick up my zoloft from the pharmacy.
He didn't do it.

Knowing that it's a chemical rebound and not anything real doesn't help me wanting to DIE!!! I have a headache, I'm miserable, and I want to jump out of my skin.


Give me some neurotransmitters!
dianadragonfly: (Default)
So guess what? The friend of mine decided to come here to see a band for her birthday -- so I put on my bar-slut shirt and went out there and danced and flirted and giggled with the band and my friends. :) Was lots of fun.

I'm so glad I went.
dianadragonfly: (Default)
Took a shower.
put on a bar slut shirt that I've had for a year and won't wear. Heading out to find my peeps. thanks for the boost, people.
dianadragonfly: (Default)
Can't shake this.
I'm trying. It's not as if I go "oh, it February -- must be depressed."
I go -- "Man, I feel different. It's really bad. What's wrong?" Then I remember, oh yeah, it's Feb.

A friend has a birthday party and I don't want to go.
I want to wallow.
no, I don't want to wallow. I want to do anything and everything possible not to feel like this, but I don't want to have to do anything.

We had 8 hours of training again today. I have never wanted to stab myself in the eye with my own pen so badly. I can't sit in a room for 8 hours anymore.

The leader knows my Mariah, the first kid I worked with. I mentioned her, and she said "I was her very first foster mommy. I was there when __________*insert a detail of horrible abuse here that identifies her by the physical markings it left*" The woman said she wanted to keep her. I felt ill. My Mariah could have been "saved" then. Had she gotten more than 2 hours of staffing per day, Maria wouldn't be in the condition she was in when I saw her.
One day, someone needs to answer for what was done to her. What happened is that as M. grew, she was harder and harder to take care of and bounced from home to home to home. People say over and over that she is the most severely autistic person that they have ever known. Add abuse and instability -- man --
I've always seen this as a "shit happens" case. But to know that she could have been happy and healthy and living with my supervisor had she had just a little more support -- that agency is evil. They justify it, say that take kids no one else will take, like the dual diagnosis kids, etc. No one else CAN take these kids once they have been through this agency.
Community and home based waiver is failing.
Institutions aren't the answer.
Arkansas has something like 16000 people in their institutions that costs the state 600-900 dollars a day.Waiver caps out at $160 a day. And they wonder why there is no staff for waiver. Our institutions (illegal under Olmsted!) suck our resources.

Driving home, I was just so angry... my little guy screaming all night and smearing shit because his tooth hurts.
The boys in the detention center, snoring and screaming in their sleep. My Mariah, locked in her house, her plan calling for institutionalization and 23 hour a day restraints. My Kayla, shipped away. My Angela, in her home in my hometown, wondering where her mommy is. I can't do it sometimes, I can't be part of this system any more...
When the mom of this one girl I work with talks on and on about how hard she has it, I just want to cry "you have no idea."

I can't take this on for them anymore.
But they can't take it on themselves....
But I'm tired and I'm frustrated and I'm sick of caring. Why does it matter if the 12 year old learns to make his bed if his next staff doesn't care? Why did I work so hard on toilet training Angela if she went back to diapers when I left? I'm about to give up.
dianadragonfly: (Default)
Oh dear god, I thank thee for Steak and Shake sippable sundaes.

I was feeling bleh again today. Like really bleh -- dead bleh -- sleep cause I don't want to be awake bleh. But I finally got myself up around 9 ish and ran by a friend's house. i was supposed to show up earlier to watch a movie, but I didn't feel like it. Anyway, it was at the house of the mom of the boy with autism who shit all over yesterday.

He has a tooth knocked out and they are waiting for medicaid to fix it. Meanwhile, he's in real pain. Hence the hair pulling and shit smearing. He was okay tonight but then woke up screaming and biting his arm. Poor baby. I came in and he got ahold of me really really good -- double hands in my hair, pulling. Then he got my cheek and pinched it. What he's saying is "this hurts, dammit!"

What I was saying was "yeah, I can see that baby. Now let me have my hair back, kthxby." I want medicaid to have to listen to this boy's screams. His mom wants to mail them his shit-smeared pillow as a reminder that this is urgent. I suggested letting him run loose in the office of whoever is dragging their feet on this issue.

But still, an hour of being around people did me good. On the way home, hubby bought me a Steak and Shake. Yay!

My counselor asked me once if I might make my health worse sometimes so I get a chance to focus on me. I mulled that over. I like dealing with health related crap -- not the effects or the pain or the fatigue, but the doctors and paperwork in some bizarre way. It's like I exercise control over it. It's how I get permission to focus on me.

I don't think I make it worse. I think sometimes I see how much I can take before I break myself, stress-wise. But I think that most of my unhealthy habits are maladjusted coping mechanisms. The bad food, the sugar addictions, Dr. Pepper etc. are a way of trying to give myself an energy boost as I struggle with chronic energy issues. And really, as bad as I felt at 9 pm or so, a big ass sippable sundae was a pretty effective way to combat that. The over-scheduling that I did last semester was a deliberate attempt to give myself structure, thinking that my problem was that I was too lazy.

Today, the sippable sundae and going out and letting a boy pull my hair was the lesser of the evils. Oh yeah, I was in a hurry this morning, opened a cabinet, dropped something, bent down, picked it up, stood up as the cabinet door swung back over my head.... yeah.... I hit my head so hard that I had to lie down on the tile -- well, I fell down, but didn't lose consciousness, wasn't bleeding, and stopped feeling like I was going to throw up, so I went ahead and went to work. (I was late). I was paying that I wouldn't pass out in the car, but after a block, I was fine. So when the boy grabbed my hair today, it hurt like hell. but it's really just tender. Not even a headache.

Yeah, and I can't find my prendisone. That's two days without it and I worry my kidneys will shut down. I'm on a low enough dose that shouldn't happen, but it does explain my mood.

the rug

Feb. 2nd, 2006 10:31 pm
dianadragonfly: (Default)
I need to be productive...
I need to ..
I need to...

So much I want to say and sometimes I feel like it won't come. The difference between being depressed before the zoloft and after was before was a frantic depression/mania that made me want to get things OUT -- however I could. It was active, it was pacing, it was biting my arm in frustration, it was panic attacks on the airplane and after seeing GT in Starbucks.

This, though, is different. If you drew a thought balloon over my head, it would be empty. I want to ... want to write, want to do anything and I keep thinking I'll type myself into it.

I have my obsessions because they are nice warm comfortable places. I have my Watchers. I have my characters that appear in and out of short stories. I have my kids to think about and muse about and to print off communication cards and picture schedules for. I have my writing and my research for my writing, when suddenly, something clicks. I have my comfortable places inside my head, whether they are inhabited by Queensryche or other fandom or some project or lj friends.

Tonight, though, they are just failing and things are just blank.

I'm tired.
I forgot my predisone so I've probably shocked my kidneys into failure. The only thing I've eaten today is a Wendy's out of a bag as I sped toward school, late. I had 2 Dr Peppers. I had a bag of candy. No wonder I feel like this.

I'm just searching for that comfortable place in my head and I cant get there. My Ryche obsession seems silly and childish. Research -- unproductive way of wasting time. Cleaning -- do I really think I can even make a dent? What I usually do when I feel like this, losing myself in some stupid TV show, seems unbearable. Yesterday I napped while A&E played that Flight 93 movie and I had terrible dreams about being interviewed because I put someone on that flight and said bye to them and I didn't know who I left. Then I was in the front seat and got my throat slit.
Then, after shaking it all off, being up for a few hours, I went to bed and that shit was on AGAIN! And I watched it this time.

I watch TV NOT to feel. A manipulative made-for-TV drama about the last hours of some people's lives isn't fair to spring on me, bastards. I kept thinking of what my phone call from the plane would be.

Is that what's behind this? That movie? It is February, after all. I heard "Wish You Were Here" on my drive home. I was really into Floyd when all that happened...
How I wish
How I wish you were here.
We're just two lost souls swimming in a fish bowl
year after year.
Running over the same old ground.
And how we've found
The same old fears.
Wish you were here.

Same old ground.... ten years ago, I was listening to that same song, trying to figure out how grief can be so impersonal -- how it's not about him anymore, but about my loss and this sort of void that sometimes, especially in February, creeps in and makes all of my comfortable spaces, well, uncomfortable. That's what I don't understand and that's what seems so selfish... how it's not about HIM, or even ME, or anything else, but just this shadow.

[livejournal.com profile] paperflowers and I once talked about the hole in the middle of the floor that is deep, "this might break me" grief and how, having fallen in it once, we do whatever we can to avoid it. There's a rug over my hole in the ground and most of the time, I walk around it. But in February, the corner of the rug gets kicked around a little and I have to be careful not to trip.

She says that for her, just knowing the hole is there is enough and the awareness of it bugs her. I can see that, see how the carpet over it, the wallpaper, the couch, people talking and acting like it's not there, can just seem like a terrible lie. I used to feel like that.

But most of the time, I'm okay with the rug there. I can accept that it covers something horrible and still appreciate the beauty of the room.

Except for days like today, usually in February, when it's easy to trip over the corner, pull back a little bit of carpet, and see just a shadow of what I know is there.
dianadragonfly: (Default)
Doing well...busy, tired, on predinsone for my feet so I expect to have a fat face in like 5 seconds.
Got hair cut short again.
Trying to wear make-up regularly for the first time since 1991. I'm just tired of looking so pale and tired. I also, just, well, I don't know how to describe it but I want to convince myself that it's okay that I want to look nice. It's okay to want things for myself -- not to look in the mirror and groan at my frizzy hair, but to say "It's okay to invest the $6.00 in hair products and the 5 minutes every morning to do something about this. No, it's not the most important thing in my life, but I am important, and if I like it, well, it's worth it."

Today was the most wasted day of my life. Sat in a room for 8 hours, watching a badly recorded tape of an 8 hour training. One lady was rude and insulting and wouldn't shut the hell up. I wanted to kill her. I just got so sensory overloaded, between the small room, the big ass dose of prendisone, the provigil, the caffinne that I kept drinking to stay awake. I was tired and jittery and ready to throw a full out, autistic, overstimulated TANTRUM!!!


Then 2 hours at the Olive Garden. But it was heavenly.
Yes, we have gotten our loan checks for the semester!

And I'm making a plan of attack for tomorrow. That's my goal right now.


Dec. 29th, 2005 03:09 am
dianadragonfly: (Default)
So, update in a nutshell:
Today -- slept alot
Saw King Kong
It was great but needed to be about 45 minutes shorter. (BLASPHEMY! to criticize almighty Jackson, but I couldn't fucking take one more dinosaur attack!)
filed a claim to get my windshield fixed from the tree incident of last summer or so. Went ahead and tried to see if I could get dents fixed too. Whatthehell.
Counted the money that was in the bottle and decided to go buy a CD with it. Ooohhh.... investments. I'm getting soooooooooo old. The purpose of the CD is to mostly keep a certain amount of money out our hands since we can't be trusted with it. We need to pay off debts with that $$ but what the hell. We're going for 6 month CDs so if we really need it, it can be gotten to with enough of a penalty that I won't be tempted to get a hold of it every few seconds. So the breaking of the bottle might have ended up being a good thing.... maybe.....

I have pics of the bottle for those willing to help me track it down.

The kiddo with autism that I work with is going to be starting a gum ball business.

Christmas went well. No breakdowns or anything else. My feet are in bad shape and so is my stomach. I kept having to hide my limp from my mom, who worries about those things, but didn't notice, and my step dad, who did notice ("you're walking like a duck, girl.") My rheumatologist feels that celebrex is safer than methotrexate and I have a sinking feeling that I've paid for that with damage to my feet and a reccurance of my ulcer.

So, yeah... trying to simplify for next year and don't know how. Got a million projects to do and don't know how. Gotta sit down and list everything I want to do and decide which ones to give up and which ones I can logically work on.

I think of my little sister, who goes to the bar every night out of boredom and had a fling with the bartender. (who got back with his wife and now my sister is depressed AND has no place to go). She needs something to keep her busy. And I think how awful that must be to have nothing going on inside your head that you want to do.

Then I think of what I want to do:
get a video done for my mom
get the family calendar done
get the PECS paperwork put together for a kid at work
get the kid with autism's gum ball business stuff together
learn to sew so I can do weighted blankets

It must be awful to have such little sense of self that everything I want to do is for other people.

My counselor really challenged me on this. When I go into a store, I can't look at things for me. It's always for work or Christmas, or birthdays.

He really works with me on this -- what do I want to do? Aside from enjoying music, is there anything I do that isn't work related, or related to helping others?

I did point out that I'm lucky enough that my loves (reading, writing, working with people, etc.) ARE my jobs, so it's not as if I don't have anything I love to do. I make money at my hobbies. (not enough, but there you go). So it's not fair to say I have an empty space there.

It's just I need to let myself know it's okay to spend time, money, effort, etc. on selfish things. I have two winter coats. One is an Eddie Bauer parka that I adore, but it was a Christmas gift 9 years or so ago and too bulky for Arkansas (though I loved it in college. That campus was the coldest place I'd ever been!). The other is my sister's black pea coat -- too short for my arms and all the buttons are missing. I have several lighter jackets, including a red wool one with a broken zipper I got for free, and the only one of these I paid for, a gray Tibetan handmade coat I bought for myself in New York and it's missing a button. Today, while in Sam's Club, I kept looking at these beautiful cashmere coats -- $73. I deserve a coat. I'm 30 years old, for goddsake. It's okay to say I want a coat. But dh and I had had a money conversation and when he saw me trying them on, he sighed. "Don;t you have like 5 billion coats?" he said.

And he's right.
And it's not about the coat. It's being able to say "I want that" and to get it. Which is why I'm okay with buying vitamins and other stuff that I probably don't need, like my paraffin spa thing. It's all about me. I'm okay with that because it's health. I can make myself believe I deserve it.

Now, to buy bras that aren't frayed hand-me-downs. That's next on my list. I'm tired of my tits hanging around my waist. :)
For that matter, I think I might even delve into the art of makeup. I spent like 20 minutes when I was 14 wearing makeup every day and then decided it wasn't for me. It's part of the evil patriarchy. blah blah blah. I know. I know.

But, you can get away with wearing a baseball hat everyday and an old Pink Floyd shirt when you're 120 lbs and 20 years old. I'm almost 30 and I don't want to look dowdy. I'm tired of looking and feeling old. I know dh will be concerned about this new trend, that will last all of a day or so, but I want to feel pretty, dammit.

Really, though, makeup, a new coat, etc. are all just half assed attempts to see if something takes hold with me, to see if there is something I want to do.
dianadragonfly: (Default)
And, because I haven't thought in song lyrics in a long time, I present:
The Theraputic Typing of Lyrics! (TTTL). )
dianadragonfly: (Default)
So, its 2 am and I've been keeping myself awake and active these last four hours, waiting for dear hubby to bring home the papers I'm grading. He forgot them earlier, so I said no problem. It was 10 pm or so. I worked on cleaning up the bedroom and caught up on a few things -- one, unfortunately, was not livejournal. Sorry all you people I adore.

Anyway, he comes home at 2:20. Sans papers. I should kill him but I won't.

I have a headache and maybe it's better I'm forced to go to bed.

I'm so weary of this, so tired of fighting it.
I was all happy with myself earlier, planning how to change things as to NOT set myself up for total failure. I got some things in the bedroom cleaned up and sorted out. I was ready to go.

Then..boom..he doesn't have them. Grrr... I guess I should go get them myself, but I'm scared to be driving on the streets right now. Please god, let school be canceled tomorrow and then I can skip both jobs and concentrate on grading.

These are more for my own notes, but it's things I've learned this semester on how to deal with my health and work better. Read more... )

Going to bed, Wanted to stay up and type my paper for Contemporary Lit, but my fingers are swollen.
Sleep Les.
You aren't any good to yourself like this.
dianadragonfly: (Default)

dear god...  make it STOP!!!!

dianadragonfly: (Default)
I've sort of hit a breakthrough in how I deal with my scheduling. [livejournal.com profile] this entry sort of explains it, but it's not just be organized and Day-Timer perfect. It's about having some sort of life where I can be busy, work toward my goals, and not hate myself when my health gets in the way.

Here's the link to the article:

Time Management for Those with Disabling Conditions

I think the movie "I Remember Me" also helped as well, in some bizarre way.

I'm not just lazy and un-organized. I don't have to spend so much time hating myself that I can't get work done. I don't have to cancel all of my jobs and let down all of my families so that I can manage my health. If I really and truly thought I would be better by canceling my jobs, I would.

Anyway, there's a certain peace and well-being that's hit me. I don't have to do what I'm not capable of. I can't hide behind the health excuse when it comes to what I can do. And to know the difference...?

To know the difference, I need to pick at least a few high priority things to get done each day. The first will be something for my school (writing) or my class. The second will be for my job(either paperwork, research, making pecs, etc. Discovery Toys counts here). Third house. (medical, financial, car etc. paperwork, bill paying,all counts too). No freaking out and trying to clean the house when I should be grading. No doing work stuff when I should be writing. I will do one of each, at least a good hour or two of clear effort on one of each, and then I will refuse any guilt for what is not done.

I'm sick, dammit, but I want a life too.

Right now, I stay awake late with frantic, guilt induced energy, knowing it's too late to do anything big, but what if I do one more thing? Like now. It's 11:39 and I just cleaned out the cat litter. I really want to clean up my office a little bit, but that's a three hour task. I need to get my papers graded, as always.

It's okay.
Tomorrow's priorities:
Organize and grade some papers (school)
Paperwork for UCP (work)
finish filling out my medical reimbursement paperwork/ call my doctor to get his part of it (domestic)

If time:
laundry (at least one load)
write more on my book (it's going along great!)

This could happen.
It really could.
In bed, by midnight, watching the Daily Show.


Nov. 11th, 2005 10:36 pm
dianadragonfly: (Default)
Oh my god.
if you want to understand me at all, see the documentary "I Remember Me."
holy shit.

amazingly powerful. It's not about what i have. CFS is a little different than fibro, and I'm not entirely sure that I really have fibro now that I have the narcolepsy diagnosis. Maybe I don't really have narcolepsy -- in fact, I was diagnosed based on how quickly I fell asleep during the sleep latency test. That COULD be a sign of anything, particularly since I never reached REM during the latency tests and I had slightly reduced REM during my sleep time as well.

Anyway, watching this movie, I remembered what it was like THEN. I never had it that bad -- in fact, I had rheumatoid, not chronic fatigue. Not like the kid that didn't leave his house for two years. I could walk. I could function, but in a vague, foggy way. But when all those people say with tears in their eyes that they felt so bad they wanted to die, I remember that. Dear god...

And I get mad at myself because I don't grade papers on time.
And I think deep down I'm lazy.

And when I saw the filmmaker talk abut her relapse and how she realized it wasn't enough to WILL herself out of it, that she would have to deal with it, that it fundamentally changed who she was, I remembered my conversation with my counselor a week ago -- I'm too anxious to sleep because I never know who I'll be when I wake up.

Holy shit.
It's not that I think I'm alone in this. I know I'm not. Knowing [livejournal.com profile] mactavitch and [livejournal.com profile] moonlitcirce and others on here dealing with chronic illnesses makes me know I'm not. But I meet people dealing with things that are so much more challenging, I forget -- something very bad happened. I was sick and I was scared and every time there's a change in my health, I get scared again. Seeing this movie reminded me of how lucky I am that I am doing this well and how much of a break I should cut myself. It also made me see, in a visual way, that I'm not crazy or lazy or stupid.

Time and time again, kids, adults, old people, young people, anonymous, famous, whatever... they look at the camera, their eyes well up and they say "No one understands. The isolation of being trapped in your body. Your old self is so far away." They say "I wanted to die." They say "I knew no one could help me." It's validating and scary. WHY has this gone on so long? WHY do people call it the yuppie flu, or complain that it's "overweight women" or "a general feeling of ill-being that is medicalized" or "mass hysteria" when this has gone on for at least 50 years? The suicide rate is awful.

I'm with someone on my flist, who has recently suffered the indignity of being a woman in a male health care system. If men were getting this at the rate women were, my god, we'd have a crisis. Imagine the quarterback of a Super Bowl team suddenly wandering the field disoriented and sick and then being bed ridden for years. SportsCenter would have live updates. We'd have a telethon. But when it happened to Michelle Ayers, the best female soccer player in the US at the time, well... I didn't see any coverage of it. She was cut down in like 1991 or so. Wasn't that about the time Magic Johnson got AIDS? Wasn't that all over the place?


I've gone from feeling awed by this movie to feeling angry.

I'm 29.
When I was 16, something bad happened to my immune system and it turned on itself. This is complicated by other factors that I haven't totally identified yet, some sort of sub clinical immuno/neurological dysfunction. And while it didn't rob me of my life, it really does fuck up my future. Tomorrow, I have to go pay $500 dollars to the pharmacy I just paid $200 to, so that I can get my magic pills that make me function. Then I have to submit charity applications to the hospital and another drug company/ Then go get a lab test done so that I can up my methotrexate so that I can kill off the immune system enough that my joints won't disinegrate. This isn't whining. It's more of realizing how little "normals" realize about my reality and how pissed I am that no one knows much about it.

See this movie.


Oct. 2nd, 2005 10:08 pm
dianadragonfly: (Default)
My sad, selfinvolved selfish rant.
Read more... )
dianadragonfly: (Default)
Busy busy busy, but better!

Love you all.



Sep. 22nd, 2005 01:45 am
dianadragonfly: (Default)
Usually I'm a sucker for navel grazing. I expose my weaknesses, mull over them, throw myself little friggin pity parties, analyze them, talk about the ad nasuem.

But my procrastination problem has gotten so bad and so embarassing that I don't even want to think about it. I am in denial. I wanna stick my head in the sand and not stress about "what's wrong with me" and "why do I do this?" I don't care.

I'm tired of failing.
But I can't make myself NOT fail. I don't learn. I don't ever fucking learn. It's always midnight, or one, or two, and I'm always stuck here with a pile of papers that I can't NOT grade because it's the very last day before their next ones are due and I've painted myself into a corner by announcing "I have them, really, they're just in the car today." or "come by at 11 and they'll be ready." I don't learn. I don't learn.

Okay... I am being harsh. I'm still recovering. I need to remember that.

But still --- I've been here on and off for like 12 hours and gotten maybe 5 papers done. The rest of the time I've been playing on ebay, watching Rita updates, being a fuck up, wasting my alertness.

I go to my counselor tomorrow and ask him how he deals with people who for some reason or another, will not change, even though it's miserable? I need to change. And I don't.


Sep. 21st, 2005 09:02 am
dianadragonfly: (Default)
My tweakiness is over. For now.

Apparently I can't handle two provigils. Down to one and half.
Was fine Sat. Went to Eureka Springs with my 20 year old, saw Thrornchrown Chapel, ate lunch, met friends, got picture taken, looked for gigantic stumpy Christ of the Ozarks, came home, cleaned and organized my office. All night. Until 5 am.
Woke up Sunday, did okay. Didn't take my 2 pills till later. Baaaaadddd Idea. Found myself lying awake, dizzy at 1 am, 2 am, 3 am. Was supposed to have papers graded for class. Canceled. Couldn't even move. Was tweaked. Sat and watched things spin.
Woke up Monday, took my pills, slept till 4 pm, got up, took care of 4 year old Still, though, awake all night. Things were spinning.

Got 1 1/2 hours of sleep before setting off to take care of the 12 year old. Then went to school, apologized to my students for hours straight as they came in for meetings (no, but I'll have your papers tomorrow) and then went home and crashed. Finally, I feel back on schedule today, although very behind. I am embarassed that I always do this right around paper-handback time.

Here I am. Feeling better. No papers graded, but oh well.

Back on track. STaying with 1 1/2 pills for now.

Hurricane Rita hits this weekend. All of the astrodome evacuees are now in Arkansas.

That's not even the evacuees from Hurricane Rita. These are left over Katrina evacs.

Blues, Bikes, and BBQ hits next weekend. All Hurricane Katrina evacs that were living in local hotels will probably get kicked out. Last year, according to the volunteer coordinator, there were no hotel rooms within 5 hours of BBB. *sigh*

I had two trainings with two agencies on the same day and same time. This sucks. I don't want to work for three agencies, but I feel like it's not my choice. I want to contact the family of the 20 year old and say that I really don't want to migrate agencies with her. But I'm loyal to her. I LIKE her. She's great. But I can't run around and do paperwork for three different people, do trainings and meet at offices, etc.

dianadragonfly: (Default)
Ever just hate EVERYTHING?

Just wondering.
dianadragonfly: (Default)
Feeling soooooooo much better.  Sleep helped.  Yesterday was just stupid and unproductive.  That is all.

I'm sooo far behind, I don't think I'll ever catch up.  AND I was tired.  Must sleep 8 hours a day.  That's all there is to it. 

On a positive note -- YAY!  S. made wedding invitations. 


Thanks for the support. 


dianadragonfly: (Default)

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