Ever just wake up and know that the day is going to suck? That’s what I feel like today. I’ve been up since about 5:30am because I’ve had nothing but horrible dreams, and I’m so worked up about them that my hands are shaking while typing.

It’s been a long week for us for reasons I won’t go into. I’m alternating between complete anger/madness/rage and utter normalcy, which in itself is completely fucked up because the swings are fast and extreme. For example, Sunday I spent the day positively loathing and not wanting anything to do with Ed, while Monday I wanted to just take him into the bedroom and fuck his brains out. There’s also the anxiety that’s back and oh-so-fun. I’m doing what I can to manage the moodiness, and Eddie’s taking the brunt of shit from me.

Work has been dead lately. We think business has dropped off, but it doesn’t seem to be any of our good regulars and we’ve still go the same number of losers that we generally get (that is, we get a slew of drug-seeking freaks in the later half of the week who want narcotics to party with). I’m beginning to think we must have the lowest price on syringes too, since we seem to be getting more folks coming in to buy them. Not to mention that all the old people have suddenly decided that they can’t do anything for themselves and are calling up saying “fill everything!” “Fill everything” is just a shade better than “I need my little white pills that look like footballs”, but not by much. Any day now someone is going to call up from their bathroom and ask for someone to call their doctor so they can get someone out to the house to wipe their ass, and then they’ll whine about how much they’ll charge for a house call. Yesterday we had someone come in and tell us that she was completely constipated, and that she’d given herself 5 enemas. Normal people would stop at maybe the 2nd or 3rd attempt at Roto-Rootering their ass if they didn’t see results, but omgwtf, 5 enemas?!?!? It boggles the mind. And then, and then, when it was suggested that maybe she might want to buy a stool softener, she declined because, get this, the pills were red and she doesn’t like the color red.

Chaucer fell in the toilet the other night. I was in the tub and Eddie was sitting on the edge of it and the cat was stretched between the toilet and the tub. I guess he lost his balance when he tried to get all 4 feet onto the toilet seat because his ass fell right into the bowl. Poor little dude looked so freaked out and mortified. And he really doesn’t like it when you put bubbles on his head.

Tomorrow I get a new computer to replace the piece of shit that I’ve been using for a while. It will be quieter in the living room without the pc fan running at full tilt all the time, and it will have a bigger hard drive so I can put some other games on it and fill it with a buttload of music. One thing that won’t be getting reinstalled? The webcam. It hasn’t been online in about 3 months, but there’s really no reason for it anymore. It was a fun run while it lasted, but it’s done.

There are times when I go days, sometimes weeks, where I feel normal inside, and then there are times when I feel positively messed up. This is one of those messed up weeks. I thought I was getting better about some things, but as the week has gone on it’s more and more glaringly obvious that I’m not.

Can I just take a day out of work and spend the entire day in a bubblebath?

After a week and a half of no Lexapro, I’ve discovered something has returned that I was unaware was even lost - my inner monologue is back. That little voice in my head that has been quiet for a year now has started piping up more and more, usually finishing up sentences for me with sarcastic quips. And she’s mean… oh god, I don’t remember her being this mean before.

To alleviate any concerns, no, this isn’t like one of those voices that tells people to do things, nor am I receiving encoded secret messages from the kitchen appliances about government conspiracies. It’s just… my mind won’t shut off and I find myself catching my tongue to avoid a biting comment. Sometimes I don’t catch myself in time, and I’m worried that I’m going to say something really mean for no good reason.

I think Titanic would have been a better movie if “old Rose”, instead of throwing the necklace overboard at the end of the movie, had launched into a Christopher Walken-esque speech about how, during the Great Depression, she hid the necklace in the only place she knew it would be safe from theft or the temptation to sell it - up her ass. And then she’d pass it on to her granddaughter, since it’s her birthright.

This afternoon a woman came into the store to buy a 10-pack of syringes. In September it became legal for people to buy needles over the counter in Mass, as long as they provide us with valid photo id with a birthdate so we know they’re over 18. The woman left and came back 5 minutes later with her id: her discharge id card from the local department of corrections, which did indeed have her orange jumpsuit-clad mugshot and her date of birth. Something tells me she wasn’t buying needles for her diabetic grandmother.

The other night I had the most fucked up dream about downtown Providence, and how Tim Burton bought 4 huge properties and built very, very strange buildings. Last night I had a dream that Eddie was playing some sort of rpg that required him to make up an old-school pen/paper character sheet. Being lazy he discovered that there was software that would generate it for him, but that the only way he could use the software was to be part of some rpg class at the local community college. He tried to sign up but didn’t have any id, so they wouldn’t let him in.

Over the weekend we bought ourselves a bunch of Gameboy Advance games, so I’ve been playing a bunch of RPGs for the last couple of days. Sword of Mana, Breath of Fire, Final Fantasy Tactics, and Final Fantasy I. I’m eagerly awaiting our flight to see who beats a game first. Probably neither of us.