Gah!

I don't suppose anybody happens to have a washer & dryer I could borrow? It seems the washer died in the night, I'm trying to wash enough clothes by hand to last through the day and I'm already nearing exhaustion.

Argh. As if I weren't having enough problems with bleeding hands without this trying to rinse laundry soap out of my jeans.

Great balls of stress!

Finished washing the load of laundry by putting the wet clothes in the bathtub and stomping on them while I took a shower. They still smell too much like laundry soap for my taste, but it's the best I can do for now.

There's too much happening for me to deal with. Or, more accurately, there is too much not happening that needs to happen or else worse things will happen. However I phrase it, I still don't have the energy to deal with it. Got plenty of sleep the last two nights, so I should be rested even if my dreams did consist mostly of people giving dull lectures in soulless auditoriums. Of course one of the main symptoms of my health problems is non-restorative sleep, so this isn't a surprise so much as a whinge about the general unfairness of life.

And I'm unhappy that I never got any birthday presents. I feel silly and childish for caring about that, but I care anyway.

Fraugh. I wish I could just take this day off to relax, but doing that would only make tomorrow that much more stressful.

Very much on the plus side, I'm glad to know that most of my Floridian friends got through the storm intact. Here's hoping the ones not heard from yet are just without power for a few days.

Stupid fight-or-flight response

Thanks to primitive neurocircuitry, I'm having to argue with myself when I find myself with the urge to either pretend there are no problems to deal with or act as if the best way to deal with problems is by screaming at somebody--anybody--possibly as a prelude to beating them up. The fact that I'm not energetic enough to beat somebody up even if I really wanted to (and on the rational level I don't want to, mostly) doesn't make the lower brain parts shut up. No, they figure if I can't fight, then I need to go find a hole somewhere and hide till everything blows over. Except, of course, hiding won't help solve problems when I'm the only one who's even thinking about dealing with them right now. The best thing to do would be to calmly, rationally...

and the lower parts of my brain stop me there and try again to figure out who to beat up.

Gah.

This "life" thing can be such a drag.

On the fun side

From the Dilbert newsletter:

People who are trying to decide whether to create a blog or not go through a thought process much like this:

1. The world sure needs more of ME.
   
2. Maybe I'll shout more often so that people nearby can experience the joy of knowing my thoughts.
   
3. No, wait, shouting looks too crazy.
   
4. I know - I'll write down my daily thoughts and badger people to read them.
   
5. If only there was a description for this process that doesn't involve the words egomaniac or unnecessary.
   
6. What? It's called a blog? I'm there!
   
   

So of course there is now a Dilbert Blog. See the entry about the dangerous donuts!


What, me spam?

Pfah!

So far today I've been trying to have rational conversations in order to get some important things straightened out... and not bothering to, um, eat anything. Except I had a spoonful of peanut butter and some potato chips, which doesn't really count for much.

Stupid flight-or-fight response. It's time to take a break and have some soup.


Oh, for the record: getting blisters on your fingertips and then trying to type isn't much fun. Stupid machinery.

Yes, I'll try to stop posting now. Next entry will have either genuine content or a really spiffy meme.