…I’m still alive.
Damn, that mulch is tough stuff. Spent all day yesterday coughing up crap and feeling like death warmed over, but much better today. A night of tossing, turning, and feeling jittery did nothing for my desire to leap out of bed this morning, but a rude wakeup call from my Hubs got me moving. Bedtime is going to come early tonight.
A friend reminded me that some of what I’m feeling could be the result of withdrawl from my anti-depressant. Maybe a little. Probably the jittery, paranoid, anxiety-ridden stressed-out feelings. The bad dreams, soaked-with-sweat, heart-racing, dry-mouthed, mental ramblings. Yeah, that’s probably from the medication. I’m pretty sure the fever, hacking, nose-blowing, black-crap-coming-out-of-me is the mulch.
Nonetheless, I’m at work. Putting in my time. Watching the clock tic by. Wishing I would find a way to a.) make it rain – not hail b.) offer up the Gods that be on the Board of Trade something that would get the grain prices to go UP for a change c.) win the lottery or d.) all of the above. D would be nice. Any suggestions?