Stopping by to chat

I’ve been too busy at work and too annoyed with my computer at home to blog. And I just got the new Harry Potter book, so you may not hear from me at all until that’s done.

Last weekend we went to Savannah. I grew up in Georgia, but I had never seen Savannah. I thought this needed to be rectified. Now I’ve decided that we should pack up and move there.

It’s so durn pretty, and there’s a beach that isn’t wall to wall hotels and beautiful renovated Victorian houses and the streets are laid out around squares. The old town is prettiest, of course. Like everywhere else the suburbs are bloated with new developments, Wal-Marts and B&Ns and such. But it was still a blast. I particularly enjoyed the beach, and I’m not a beach person. We were lucky to have mild weather and to get there before the crowds. Tybee Island is very low key and there are no high-rises—-just ramshackle little bungalows. I’m not a fan of the Atlantic, but I got past comparing it with the sugary sand and clear blue water of the Gulf.

That was one of the high points. The other is that Dear Husband’s immune system appears to have righted itself. The doctor thinks that once he started the gluten free diet, it took the stress off his T cells or whatever they are.

My doc put me on a bit of Prozac to drag me out of the pit. It is making me very very hungry. The kind of hungry that's right next door to nausea. Next week Firecracker goes into the hospital for a video EEG. We have to decrease her meds so that she’ll have lots of seizures for the doctors. I am not looking forward to that.

I recently looked at our budget and discovered that we spent $800 on medical expenses last month. Ouch.

Sheesh, I'm glad this week is over

Man, this was one crummy week. It was one of those weeks that is becoming all too familiar, one in which mistakes seem to attract other mistakes until there's a big fuzzy hairball of a mistake crowding me out of my cubicle. And I'm not the kind of person who takes these things in stride. No, I have to give myself a mental lashing several times a day and weep into my keyboard. I complained so much to my therapist that she asked if I could have ADD. How curious, I thought. So then I found myself at work and looking up ADD on the web when I should have been, well, working. More fuzz for the hairball.

Since I'm always ready to take on a new diagnosis--they're like virtual toys--I'm going to see the psychiatrist armed with a questionnaire that, if it doesn't indicate ADD, sure does indicate that I am a total flake.

Now, I always thought you had to be a hyperactive struggles-with-schoolwork kind of person to have ADD. Seems, though, you can just be a daydreamer who loses and forgets everything and is pathologically shy and gets bored all the time--they call it ADHD primarily inattentive, or something like that. If you're really smart and you like your classes you can keep looking good until the work gets too complex, which for me happened about the time I had to balance my own checkbook, which I did maybe three times before giving it up entirely. Over the years I've witnessed myself changing from pathologically shy to the kind of annoying person who interrupts you and can't stop talking. Meanwhile the academic prowess has unraveled itself into some fluffy yarn. I bet I would talk a lot in class now, if I could remember what time and place it meets. It's in my planner, but the planner has gone missing. I know it's here somewhere, if I could just get up the energy to look.