I feel like . . . I called in sick today. I can’t work because I am wrung out like a . . . I’m just waiting for the double dose of my morning meds, gabapentin, to kick in and kick me into dreamland, where I belong right now. When I am sick, and all of my systems are either shutting down or reduced to rudimentary, the last thing to go is my writing. Thought I’d write for a while before the meds kick in. Dang, I just repeated myself. On purpose, mind you. I’m allowed, via prescription, to adjust my dosage of meds to help me deal effectively with my fucked up voyage called life. Grateful I am.
Last night I deleted numerous replies to my various posts here at EyeYote, and I deleted yesterday’s post as well, the reason being that one situation which entailed me being a proponent and ally to a seriously beleaguered friend has put me in the line of fire from some ginormous guns that I am unwilling to face. The replies that I deleted, one and all, all of them, whatever, were deleted for two reasons. One, because they all entailed insults toward myself. Two, because I need to keep this blog clean, to allow . . . the meds are kicking in. I am getting very groggy and sleep shall follow shortly. Tomorrow I can return to work. Today? I’m stressed beyond the point of tears, to the point where the courage of my convictions has laid me flat. And I have minor chest pains. Poor me. That’s why I called in sick. I’m of no use to anyone today, yet this afternoon I really need to go deposit the check I have in my wallet into my tiny bank account. Maybe after a hefty nap.
A reminder, then I must really lay down and sleep: all replies that bear deletion will be deleted. It is nothing personal, unlike the content of those I have already deleted. Maybe I had it coming, but now I am seeing to it moving along. I’m afraid of those big gun media giants, and of two pesky women who have never posted replies on this blog. Bueno bye.
Peace out, y’all. Goof gloriously.