Sunday, April 23, 2006
 

Still Alive, I Think?

At this dose of the mind-numbing, mega-sleep-inducing, fuzzy-braining Seroquel, that life-or-death distinction gets kinda fuzzy. Fortunately, it does enough of a number on what once was my consciousness that I don't really worry about it. La-di-da. [while we're-- or at least I-- am either on the subject-- or maybe the subject just floated into my head and will float out again like plum blossoms ("America, the plum blossoms are falling"-- Name! That! Poem!), some high-strung fun, if fun is the right word here, and it isn't]

Ahem.

Moving along here.

I just proofread my html. This proofreading strongly indicates that I should medicate and go to sleep.

Such is my life these days. Medicate, sleep, (over)eat. Medicate, sleep, (over)eat.

Your choice: Be "normal," or be a fat, tired blob of expensive chemicals.

At least I have health insurance now, at least until I get fired from my job for being a fainting, sleepy, dippy ditz. Which brings us back to the subject of Seroquel . . .

Reading: Just finished a Dean Koontz, which I purloined from the library's cataloging staff. Bad librarian, bad.
Listening: Nellie McKay.
Current Obsession: I'm too busy drooling and staring into space to obsess. Which, I suppose, means the meds (all seven thousand of them) are working. I really think I'd settle for a lobotomy.
Alice: Is still, and always, my spoiled little beautiful baby girl. She's currently having many a spazz attack over spring in the great suburban outback; she sits in her open window and puts her pwecious widdle nose on the screen, inhaling so deeply her sides practically cave in. Awww.

Elvisette philosophized at 9:43 PM