Day Six of the Surreal Life


That’s my leg, up close and probably too personal. So far I’ve experienced none of the gross scabbing or pain or unbearable itching that I was told to expect. It does itch, but not so bad I can’t take it. The only real issue I’m having is that sometimes it hurts if I roll over on that side at night.

I’m again searching for the plateau, having slipped off the edge into the valley again. The work that needs to be done around the house becomes insurmountable. The whining of the dogs to wake me up in the morning becomes unbearable. Even Everquest has lost some of it’s fun, but I think a great deal of that is just that I can’t sit at the computer for hours at a time because my leg gets itchy.

The negative self-talk comes and goes. A lot of voices have been ringing in my ears lately…not the kind that land you in a psych unit but the kind that you recognize clearly as memories, intrusive though they may be. Most of all it’s my own mind that’s tired, beaten down, and needs a vacation.

Holy geezominey, is it August yet? Am I on that plane to the UK yet?

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