Had a call from a doctor 3 minutes after waking up this morning. They're going to try some new antidepressant combinations on me, and if shit won't start working they should probably do a genetic screening on me to see if there's any hereditary DNA things going about, influencing how I metabolise medications. When I asked him to confirm that this actually is something that they can do, he misunderstood where I was coming from with this and tried to reassure me that it's not a bad thing or anything to be afraid of.
No, I was just astonished to learn that not only is this a thing that doctors know of and practice, but that there's actually a legit way to be medically tested for something that I've suspected all along: With the combined powers of natural selection and unhinged, untethered alcoholism, my bloodline has developed an inherent genetic resistance to poison damage.
I cannot put on the protective belt that keeps my lower back from straining itself. I have to get dressed first.
I cannot get dressed. I need to wash my hair and scrub my skin.
I cannot take the shower. I need to clean up the bleach that I sprayed all over the tub last night.
I cannot enter that particular bathroom in order to clean up the bleach. I need my dull sinus ache to clear up a little more.
I can't quite get this sinus ache under control. That would require Reheating First Coffee, Prepping Second Coffee, and also arranging a food such as One Bowl Of Cereal.
The kitchen is downstairs. I am upstairs. I cannot go downstairs, because I would need to carry down with me something that Needs Putting In Place. Otherwise I am wasting a trip on the stairs with my knees mostly cooperating.
I cannot grab just anything that ought to be downstairs, because I need to get more laundry washing so I can hang several items up to dry today and tomorrow. By Wednesday, it might be raining, which defeats the purpose.
I cannot grab the next load of laundry to carry downstairs. I need to assemble more items in either the Red-and-Pink-and-Orange load, or the Black-and-White-and-Blue load.
The items to go in these loads are in the Hellmouth Closet.
If I continue sorting things out of that closet, not only am I going to run out of the current stash of garbage bags that I have up here ... I'm also going to strain my back. Because I am not wearing the protective belt to support it.
me after I remember that I blocked Unfamiliar Familiar and it's author when I just got into reading rottmnt fics, now seeing TFLB go against it in the preliminary vote for the tmnt au competition poll:
When I grow up, I want to be a flower. Something wild and fleeting like a buttercup or a bluebonnet, but I’ll settle for a pansy on a wooden planter on some main street, near a coffee shop. I want to seep into the ground and enjoy oblivion for a little while. I want to be borne away on some west wind and be pushed and pulled by the rush of a circling swallow. I want to weave a spiderweb, dig a burrow, swim upstream. I want to feed the birds of carrion.