Obviously, I’m not doing so well with the writing. Actually, I’m not making much of a dent in anything, other than my mattress. It’s not me, I swear–it’s what’s bugging me.
I have yet another UTI featuring the bacterial equivalent of John Travolta’s career–no matter how much ridiculous shit hits it, it just won’t die. In the last two months I’ve been on five different antibiotics: septra, cipro (twice), levoquin (ten days), 2 1/2 days of macrobid (made me sicker than Battlefield Earth), and now a week of doxycyclene. I can’t say for sure that it’s working, but I do know that it has been two whole days since I last pissed on myself, and that’s progress. In the meantime, all that medication has left me with all the energy, drive, and charm of Perfect. I’m a real peach.
Adding to my pleasure, my laptop has also decided to bug out. I’ve seen more error messages and blue screens in the past two weeks than I ever feared existed. I’ve done every repair I can myself, up to and including reformatting the hard drive and rebuilding the whole damned thing from scratch, and I’m back to weird-ass errors and bad clusters. So tomorrow it’s off to visit the Nerd Herd for some professional therapy–assuming I can let go of it without the assistance of hostage negotiators. Stay tuned…
