It Feels Sooo Good To Be Back!

*Author's Note: I adore Welcome Back, Kotter, so that song in Lisa's comment made my day. I hadn't thought of that song forever and can't find Welcome Back, Kotter anywhere on TV anymore... or Mystery Science Theater either, both are a huge loss for the TV watching population to miss out on.


Wow. Being without internet for a week or so makes me really appreciate having internet again and showed the depths of my addiction to it. How could I possibly know what is going on in the world without it?! Its not like I could watch the news or buy a newspaper; that would be too logical, and logic and I do not necessarily go hand in hand. I am thrilled to be back and look forward to catching up on your blogs to find out how you have fared in my absence -- hopefully better than me in my padded room, rocking in the corner, chanting, "it gets the internet once again or else it will need the hose again!" Now that I am back from the dark hole of no internet, I will not fear having no internet. It will lead me by glorious headlines and maketh me crave all gossip. Okay, enough sacrilege. I don't want to upset any that are more faint of heart than myself. I'm going to give a quick update so that I can get back to my regular blogging. You know, to bring myself back up to speed and show how truly boring my life is. So strap yourselves in for a wild ride.



*We had a round of sickness go through the ranks, nearly decimating the troops. Only a few of us were left well enough to care for the sick, but we did finally pull through and were able to defeat the hideous marauding mess piles.



*I burnt my leg on the space heater. It is one of those standing ones that looks like a radiator and we like to stand over it to warm our legs. I leaned back on it, laughing at my little sister's joke, and burnt the back of my fat thigh, in a place that I can't see well or get to easily. Others have had to dress my wound, which they are thrilled about dressing a wound inches below my arse. Having decreased sensation in my legs, plus my damaged nerve pathways and my poor plaque encrusted brain made the "THAT'S FRIGGIN HOT! Move, B*tch!" message too slow in it's journey to my brain. It took awhile to find a nerve pathway that it could get though on, then bounced around on all the lesions before it finally got to my consciousness. Alas, it was too late. I've got a good burn that hurts like hell and is keeping me from properly exfoliating my leg or shaving for that matter. My legs need to be shaved so bad that I fear a logging truck may be necessary when I am finally able to run a sharp object over my legs again. I'm past the braiding stage and into the dreadlocks stage now, but it is just going to have to keep growing for a little bit longer.

*Still loving the Ritalin here. I have been able to finish things that I started long ago but didn't have the attention span to complete. I haven't been napping as much -- I do doze off between doses sometimes -- and when I do nap it is an hour at most. A huge improvement over several hours and it lets me sleep better at night. I saw my shrink again and we are going to try the controlled release tablets to see if that helps me more because I am so tired and so ADD it is ridiculous and embarrassing. I know that these drugs are not for everybody, especially anyone who is/has struggled with addictions, but I am not a person who has that problem. I smoke, yes, but I don't drink and I have never had a drug addiction problem... not saying I've never tried non-prescribed drugs (whistling and looking off in another direction) but I was not sucking d*ck for them, which is always my barometer for my dependence on something. I've been taking Xanax for over 7 years now and have never upped my dose. In fact, I have been going down lately, so I think I can handle my controlled substances regardless of how controlled they are. And controlled Ritalin is! My shrink can only write the prescription for a month at a time and I have to pay for it at the pharmacy, there is no taking it to a checkout and paying for it there even though it would be on record that I did pay for it. But I am used to strict controls on my meds: I've been on Tysabri for 2 years now.

I'm sure there was more but the kids are awake now -- we have Jabber with us this weekend -- and I can no longer put together coherent thoughts. Jabber is sooooo obsessed with what is in his nose that we are talking about staging an intervention. We have even started our letters to him, and anyone who watches Intervention will recognize the beginning of these letters:

Dear Jabber,
I have seen your addiction affect your life negatively in the following ways:

Your hands are toxic waste sites that I don't want near anything I may ever think about eating.

Your hiding under the blankets to take a jackhammer to your nose without being observed makes me sick and not want to touch the blankets until they have been soaked in hot water and bleach for hours.

And so on. Sorry, I can no longer think when I am being buried under a mountain of words. Until next time...