((This is not really THAT related to RA. Really.))
So, I haven't been sleeping that much for the last month or so, right? (I haven't, but we will discuss this in a real post later on...so just say yes and proceed) I am a college student so I'm pretty good at fakin' the smarts after an all-nighter. After a few all-nighters, or many in a row, I am so goofy it might embarrass you. Right now, I am so goofy, I don't even know I should be embarrassed for myself!! I'm a little confused, a lot groggy, and generally kind of lost.
With that backstory, here is a conversation. Followed, probably, by more backstory. Forestory? Afterstory?
Me: So in my shower today, I said to myself...
TBF: *interrupting* 'Self....' for that is sometimes what I call myself...'
Me: *barreling through whatever reference he just made* I said, 'I'm probably going to die today. SO, I love you very much.
TBF: *rolling eyes* You are not going to die today. I love you very much too.
Me: I might probably might die today. I think I am going to die today. I maybe read too much Wally Lamb.
TBF: *eyes perpetually rolling* I'm going to take a poop.
So, okay. Yeah he really did say that. Boys are....you know. Boys are just so blunt. I think what he meant to say was "I'm going to sit on the toilet and play a thousand Words With Friends games for about an hour." ((Breaking news!! I have just been very indignantly informed that, "Actually, I didn't play Words With Friends thankyouverymuch, I played Shoot the Apple." Important distinction. Totally changes the story))
But really I was in the shower and washing my hair, but then suddenly I just imagined that I was probably going to die today. And I think this came from several jumbly places in my brain:
1) I really just did read ALL of my Wally Lamb collection. I finished The Hour I First Believed last night, and that one does mess with my head a little bit with all the dying and stuff. That's kind of all of Wally Lamb, but that one had more guns.
2) I AM SO TIRED
3) That Big Scary Thing is today. That Big Scary Thing is where I have to go in and the nurse has to teach me (and The BF too) to give myself subcutaneous injections. It's not that I'm scared of needles, really. I've met them plenty of times and I usually find them to be a worthy foe, but not often unbeatable. It's just that I kind of don't want to play with them by myself in my own home. Needles are for nurses, not for me. No thanks. Injecting my own fatty tissue is kind of awful. SO there's that, and I'm scared. Also I googled "subcutaneous injection" and looked at the pictures (WHY? This is always such a bad plan!) New Google Images has been around for awhile now, but sometimes it still gets to me because I accidentally scroll past the page numbers shoved in there between pictures, and then suddenly I'm in this no-man's land of horrifying porn, both wildly irrelevant and terrifyingly relevant. I didn't see any needle porn today but I think I saw enough pictures to scare me into staying home forever. Google Images is always a bad idea when you're afraid of something. Stop doing it.
So my brain took those things and confused them all up into this weird state of being, where it's 7:30 am and I'm showering and convincing myself that this day will be my demise.
But hey, it's 9:08 now, and I'm still here. I haven't gotten my socks and shoes on yet, though, so there's that to watch out for. Also That Big Scary Thing in an hour.
REAL POST about real things is coming soon. **ALSO** there are these things called comments, and you, my loyal readers (all 2 of you) should use them.
Also also, whenever I go to type "rheumatoid arthritis" into Google Chrome, this blog comes up and I feel famous for a minute, before I remember it's mine and Google just knows I blabber on it sometimes.