But as you will see, I would have preferred a fire extinguisher (and yes, I know Brandon was talking about INTELLECTUAL fire because he's just that awesome. I'm just always quoting this phrase for some reason.)
So I went back to painting (mostly out of boredom.)
I got rejected for two jobs last week and have to wait a month on the third one (NOTE: Later this same day I got rejected on the third one, too. So much for a month.) I had really hoped the Minnesota one would come through and I'm down in the dumps again. I've been tireder and grumpier and miserable-r since last week and then the graduate school I reapplied to yesterday told me they don't think I need the degree I applied to to get a job. I spent two weeks at the end of last year begging for advice from anyone I could talk to and NONE of them were willing to help me. Then when I go off on my OWN and try to fix the problem MYSELF, they tell me I'm doing it wrong. I'm ticked off and tired and angry and I just want someone to want me somewhere so I can leave this house and pay my own bills again.
And then there's the LS! Again!
Warning: I'm going to complain about my unmentionables again. I am sorry. If they weren't complaining so much, I wouldn't complain to YOU, and we'd all go out and have an ice cream sundae with sprinkles.
But alas, I am going to bitch. Again.
The weather's been rainy and humid and apparently THIS kind of weather sets off my LS, big time (remind me never to go to the tropics, then.) Or the stresses of the last week. Or my sugar habit. Or two of these or all of these. Who knows?
Spent most of last evening on fire (metaphorically, anyway. Well, somewhat physically. OK, so it wasn't ACTUAL fire but it might as well have been.)
I couldn't even wear my jeans last night any longer because they were like sandpaper to it, or a scrub brush, or steel wool. I quit wearing jeans regularly months ago because it hurts so much to wear them. Most of the time I stick with dress pants (those were supposed to be for work (ha ha)) or jogging pants because they don't aggravate my skin there. But these jeans are my painting jeans and I just happened to have them on when I got home.
So I did the logical thing when one's hm hm is on fire-I was slapping creams on it, trying to get some relief last night. At that point, you will do anything to get some relief (like a never-ending yeast infection turned up to 11...fun, fun, fun.) I finally gave in and put the steroid cream on it.
I feel better this morning but I'm sore and hurting and wish I didn't have this (for the forty billionth time.)
I wrote this on Facebook ten minutes ago...
OK, so, I'm going to be positive today...
I'm flaring! (But no infection yet, so yay!)
I'm jobless (but I get to go paint walls! Oh, Yay!)
I just had to ask for a deferment again (but that means I don't have to pay student loans again! Yay double yay!)
See, everyone? I can be positive. Here I am, dancing sugarplums and fairies and ALL.
Ugh. All this yaying makes me need a latte...
I need coffee but I should be avoiding sugar right now (as one of my friends put it, "You want some coffee with that sugar?"), as that's probably half my problem right there. And I have to watch this thing closely now because there are raw spots and I could have infection if I'm not careful (again, sugar is bad right now because it helps yeast to grow. Last thing I need. The last time was like hell on a toothpick and I do NOT want to go through that again, ever.)
I guess I'll have to suck it up today and carry on and be brave and all that jazz.
Ta,
Bec
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