caerula's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- If memory serves me right... I am so tired tonight that it was an effort to drag myself over here. But since I've just started this, I don't think it would be very auspicious to miss a day already, so I'm making th effort. This tiredness goes beyond needing to sleep; it's mental, emotional, and physical. It's in my bones. It's an exhaustion that makes it a huge effort to get off the couch and make it too bed; making dinner or doing anything more than messing about at the computer is out of the question. And I feel like this *every* night. I'm sure a lot of this is stress. It doesn't help me to know that. I'm watching Iron Chef at the moment. It's a rerun of last year's New York Battle with Bobby Flay, but I'm watching it again because of how much I enjoy watching Flay get dissed by Morimoto, and almost get electrocuted. He's doing something at the moment with squid ink; why anyone would ever have thought squid ink should be anywhere near food is far beyond my comprehension. This show does crack me up; the commentary is so hilarious. "Why, yes, I believe he is adding yogurt to that. What is he doing? Incredible!" It's all so dramatic and serious. "I would never believe anyone would put these ingredients together, but the salmon sorbet dances on my tongue." Anything dances on my tongue, I'm going to spit it out and stomp on it. Went with Mom to a quilt and craft show today, but unfortunately it was of the little old church ladies variety. The quilts were exquisitely pieces and stitched, with hideous fabrics, and the crafts were mostly of the appliques toilet seat cover variety. Ugh. We went from there to Grandma's, since it was nearby, and I was subjected to several hours of Hypochondriac Psycho-Aunt's blather. I often wonder how my mother came from that psychotic family. I also wonder how Grandma can put up with the crap she does, but it's not my place to criticize her choices. Hypo has acquired another dog, a papillon. The dog weighs maybe three pounds and can't even jump onto the couch; it's head kept popping up over the side and disappearing, like it was on a trampoline. And she named the thing Lucas. What kind of name is that for a dog, even an one with huge floppy ears and a brain the size of peanut? Talk about your child substitutes. Hypo was telling me how her hands and feet have gone completely numb; she claims she can't feel that at all. I find it doubtful, at best; seem like it would make it difficult to walk, and pick things up, but she has no trouble doing either. And she has gone off all her psychiatric medications, because she ran out and won't go back to the psychiatrist. Apparently because he told her she was nuts, basically, and that she wasn't physically ill. She's gone over a month, at times, without showering or leaving the house. She's insane. And not only does Grandma have to put up with this, she has to share a bedroom with it! Bobby Flay just got electrocuted. Unfortunately he seems to be fine, and has started making saffron soup. There's a kid in the audience in an Iron Chef outfit. I'm sure he doesn't get teased at school at all. BB is out of the shower after a yucky night at work, and has turned it to the hockey game. He has no appreciation for fine quality television programming. I'm going to bed now, if I can drag myself in there.
10:11 p.m. - 2001-06-02 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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