Do you want to know what the problem is?
Well, too bad, cuz I'm saying it anyway...
About a month ago, I had the BIG bright idea to wean myself off of a certain medicine I'm taking. You know, the one I've talked about before that keeps me from thinking everyone hates me and I hate them too, and I get panicky in social situations, and I'm a bitch one minute and all lovey-dovey the next, and I hate myself, and I get depressed, and I marry some guy and move to Boise, Idaho, and I'm just generally insane?
Yeah, that one.
Well, I got myself down to 75 mg per day instead of the 225mg I was taking with no perceived problems other than I wasn't leaving the house much (which I normally don't do anyway, but it was a tad worse). There were probably other things going on that I didn't notice myself.
And then two days ago happened and all hell broke loose inside my head. I guess. I don't know. Anyway, I've been on an emotional roller coaster and rather crazy the last three days. Good thing I don't go anywhere.
So the next time I am struck with what I think is a moment of brillance and think I don't need my medicine anymore, I hope I remember this. Nobody else can remind me because I didn't tell anybody this time and probably won't the next time either. Not even Barnaby knew.
(I just had to stop typing because a dog just shit underneath my desk. You wish you were me, don't you?)
Anyway, where was I? Oh, yeah. I just read this and sound crazy. I'm really not, though...maybe.
Okay, enough of that.
Speaking of cleaning up dog shit...my cleaning lady just told me that last time she was here, she watched Fletcher hike his leg and pee on a corner wall. And then he went over to her basket of rags, picked one out, and took it over to his pee puddle and dropped it on top!
I'm telling you, he's making himself sandwiches and popping popcorn at night while we're asleep. I just know it.
Mr. Smarty-Pants Fletch says, "Don't listen to her, Momma. She's lying!"