A HUGE thank you to britzkrieg and my mysterious anonymous benefactor who, between them, have renewed my extra user pix until March '07! Thankyouthankyou!
Noticed something odd recently. I've been seeing a recurrence of the woozy, light-headed Effexor withdrawal effects. I have to wonder if it's stress related. Maybe my serotonin levels have taken a nosedive due to assorted anxiety and frustrations, and my human suit is still expecting artificially elevated amounts, causing that periodic brain-giddy feeling? It's not as bad as the initial onset effects were; I think I'd be safe to drive while having them. But it's disconcerting. Thought I was over this. Effexor is damn insidious.
I think Hobkin's been sensing both my stressed and irritable mood and my physical misery. He's been quite skittish, even downright antisocial for a couple days, only emerging from under his hutch for meals and a skunk lap or two around the house, and even more prone to startling at shadows than usual. Might be spring fever too, I guess, although it seems a little early for that.
In a fit of cat waxing (also because I was fed up with my wing stubs both aching and freezing) and inspired greatly by merebrillante's fabulous Prisoner of Azkaban wrist-warmers, I assembled some wing protection:
Unlike merebrillante, I don't have the skill or talent to construct useful yarn-wear like this from scratch (and of course mine are nowhere near as stylish as hers), but I did have an old pair of driving gloves with cracking fingers, an even older pair of wool socks with the heels wearing out, a pair of scissors, and a needle and some thread (which I can wield with adequate proficiency). Several snips and some well-placed stitches to keep everything from fraying apart, and I now have comfy things that keep my wrists and hands warm and that allow me to type and mouse. It's a small thing, but it made me inordinately proud of myself. Not to mention it's really helping on the frozen wing stub front.
Conspicuous absence of "Writing Stuff" section due to an utter lack of anything to report.
The plan is to give "Tried as an Adult" a final pass (or five) and send it off to jimhines for his Heroes in Training anthology today, but that was also the plan yesterday and the day before yesterday, and the day before that . . .
Thanks, sweetie. It just seems that I've had my days/mornings/afternoons of vegging, and they haven't done much to recharge my batteries. I come out of them freaking out more about how much I didn't accomplish. Its a wicked, brutal cycle, I know. And what's worse, a part of me wants to kick myself for wallowing about feeling sorry for myself too. Feh. Nothing to do but force myself to get cracking. That's the only thing that will make me feel better.
And yet, here I am futzing about on LJ. GAH!