|I'll do the laundry for you!|
That's not my cat, but I think it is my washer. But it's really clean, so it can't possibly be my washer. I wouldn't know though, because...
I'm. Still. Sick.
But I'm not sick in a classic get a 102.1 degree fever, barfing, punctured a lung coughing up icky green stuff, wavy lines in my vision sort of way. I'm more sick in an exhausted, achy, severe pain in my shoulder way...if that even makes any sense.
What it really means is that fibromyalgia has once again reared it's ugly head and flattened me onto the couch and it' really starting to piss me off. I mean, I even missed Stream of Conscious Sunday yesterday because I was too tired to write for five minutes, I haven't been on Facebook except to blearily update my Words with Friends games with words like "scepe" (which probably made total sense in my 3:00 a.m. I can't sleep because my shoulder is killing me mental fog), and my mother is wondering if she is going to see me before Christmas. Thank God Justin is driving on Thursday because I will only have to drag myself to the car with a pillow and hope my mother in law won't care that I'm in my pajamas.
So, I'm whining my "being chronically ill sucks" motto again. My diagnosis is a "rule out" of "real" diseases, I never know when I'm going to spend two weeks (months) doing nothing but trying to comprehend a Stephen King book that I've already read because I'm too tired to even contemplate taking a shower, and my children are wondering why they have no clean clothes and Mom doesn't have any makeup on. Again.
I have a doctor's note to get blood work and a mammogram (not necessarily in that order) and I'm too tired to schedule the appointments.
I'm going to run out of one of my prescriptions and I'm too tired to go to over to the pharmacy to get it. And it's one that actually helps.
I'm starting to think that all of my Christmas shopping is going to be done online, which will probably make buying Justin a grill kind of hard (does Lowe's deliver grills oh shut up he already knows I'm buying it for him). And I'm hoping I can use my Gamestop credit if I go to the website because I would really hate to lose that $105 because whatever this thing is that has me in its grip made it impossible to drag myself to the store. (I will drag myself to the store if that's the case, but my fingers currently seem to be the only part of my body that can move without extreme effort, so I'm going to briefly cross them and pray to my higher power (yeah, right) that I can use it online.
And if you're not following this, don't feel bad because I'm not even sure what I just wrote. Cognitive dysfunction is a total bitch.
Please tune in tomorrow for another suspense filled episode of As The Couch Sagged. No wait. That's my chest. I promise to fill you in on the exciting drama of whether or not I made it to the shower and how many days (okay, weeks) Joey will have to live with needing new shoes.
Mom, we really need to get webcams and do the Skype thing. Hey, I hear you can do that with a Mac...