There’s always an upside.

I started Cymbalta twelve days ago. I think. Let me count. Yes, twelve days ago. Which of course means my brain has gone on holiday. I think I spent 2 hours yesterday sitting in front of the fire doing nothing. My brain just turned off and there I was, staring at the flames and nothing was working. I find myself gazing into space, thinking about nothing.

Everything is an effort. Like moving through treacle. But if I take them right before bed, I can’t sleep. WOE IS ME.

I need something to pull me out of this god forsaken grey fogginess, but I suspect the only thing which will work is time.

On the upside, my pain levels are a lot lower and I know from last time I should start to feel better in another month. I can do that. I can do this.

In the meantime, I spend a lot of time contemplating things. Do I need a wheelchair? Would I actually leave my house more often if I didn’t have to walk when we got whereever we were going? How does a husband push a wheelchair and a trolley at the same time? Could we convoy our way through the supermarket?

No.

So there’s that.

Things are happening here – well I mean, things are always happening here. And I think about writing about them, but then it’s like someone is sitting on my shoulder asking why the fuck anyone would care about it. Basically my brain is screwy and I’ve forgotten how to blog well.

The dog needs an operation. She limps intermittantly and a vet visit today showed her patella is dislocating. Because OF COURSE, right? If anyone gets a dog with a dislocating knee it ought to be me. So she’s off for an operation next week and I am so relieved. I was worried it was something more serious and we were going to have to put her down. Plus, the quoted operation was way less than I was expecting, so that’s nice. I’m not going to have to sell a kidney.

School continues, as always. Multiple complaints about multiple things there, but this blog is very public and I’m already persona non grata down there I suspect. Maybe I’ll write about it elsewhere and at least get paid to have sour looks thrown my way. How dare I complain.

Eve is recovering, slowly. She’s asleep at the moment, which is of course why I can write this rambling crappy blog post, because she hasn’t heard my fingers tapping and come running to sit on me and bash the keyboard herself. She’s still coughing, but that’s a hallmark of RSV, a lingering cough.

We moved her out of her cot (side note: if you’re in Tassie and you know someone who wants a cot, email me. good quality, aus standard approved and taking up too much space in my storage area. free as well.) and into a bed – well, a mattress on the floor because she flails a little too much to be trusted with edges yet. When she’s adjusted to this, we’ll play juggle the bedrooms and she’ll move in with her sister and everything will be chaos for a week. Of course.

So that’s me. Soap is happening, the business launch is a mere six weeks away and I’ll be glad when my brain is working well enough to actually let me work without losing my train of thought or accidentally falling asleep on my keyboard.

Yay me, right?

Again. Upside: less pain.

There’s always an upside.