I had the most bizarre dream last night. It involved a landscaping crew watching Eddie and I in bed, and contrary to popular belief I wasn’t as enthused about this as you might think. And at one point I noticed that I had a plant growing out of my right calf, so I did what any normal person would do to prune herself and grabbed Eddie’s hair clippers and hacked away at the offending leaves that were sprouting so that it wasn’t quite as obvious that I HAD A FUCKING PLANT GROWING OUT OF MY LEG.

We won’t get into the vivid description I could paint of the gaping maw left when I managed to get the root bulb out of my muscle, because that would just be gross. I’m taking that dream as a sign from my head that I should shave my legs.

I’m just happy that the week is over. It’s been a long damned week involving drugs that we don’t stock, losers who only want a very specific brand of percocet, old women who call up to ask for their “vikes” 10 days too soon, and talking with the Cranston police department about fake prescriptions, so needless to say and I’m very, very happy that the weekend is here.

Here is a random bunch of small paragraphs that have nothing to do with each other.

I decided tonight that I’m going back on my pills. Obviously I can’t be trusted to be sane while off of them, otherwise I pull my hair out and cut myself like an angsty emo kid. Bring on the tight jeans and the Dashboard Confessional CDs; I’ll dye my hair black and slick my bangs into my face.

The new computer is running swell. At the moment I’m downloading some stuff and trying to configure things the way I like them. Not included in the downloads is any sort of instant messenger program or cam program. I’m going all antisocial, baby.

Saturday Eddie and I are going out and about. I know that we’re hitting the Arcade because neither of us has ever been, and then the evening is up in the air. Sunday we’re going to Mom’s house for dinner, where I’ll hopefully get to so some work on my crocheted skirt.

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.

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 was up bright and early this morning at 4am to make the trip to Warwick with Eddie and then back to the house. I got home at around 5am and curled up under the covers for another 5 hours, dreaming of strange things that I can’t quite remember right now, only that one of them involved very tiny mouse teeth.

I finished an absolutely fantastic book yesterday, Jonathan Strange and Mr Norrell. It’s longer than most of what I’ve been reading lately, but it’s so very worth it. Last night I was thinking about how well it would translate to film, and read today that the screenplay is already in the works. Personally, I don’t think that the book will be able to make the jump to film very easily, but that wouldn’t stop me from checking it out if it ever makes it into the theaters.

I’m picking up extra hours at work tomorrow, which should help out with the hours I’m losing from not being there on Friday. My whole $.50 raise should also be going into effect shortly, which will help out a little bit. Once the work schedule dies down a bit I’ll be making my doctor appointment, and we’ll see what sort of fun stuff she find wrong with me. In the last year and a half since I went to see her last I’ve lost about 55lbs and have made some slight changes to my eating habits, gone to school, gotten a new job, and I’m more active than ever (no more sitting in a booth all day), so we’ll see what she says. I’m compiling a list of things that I need to get addressed in some way, shape, or form, and this way I won’t leave anything out. Plus my OCD tendencies like lists. However, reading the list makes me pissed off, because I see exactly how fucked up I am and can’t understand why anyone would put up with my bullshit issues.