So I’ve decided that taking meds blows. Granted, I’m not about to stop taking them, but they’re not working like I think they should.
I hate waking up feeling like a drug addict with the tension and the shakes and the whole body jitters that don’t really abate until the day gets underway and my morning dose gets into my system.
I’m presuming that’s how a drug addict feels.
Which is, you know, naive and presumptuous.
I have no idea how a drug addict would feel so don’t be expecting a Candy script from me any time soon.
I’m simply taking each day, each hour even, as it comes.
Some days I can feel myself falling into oblivion so to make it all seem real I vacuum, or do a load of washing, or something.
I’m so vague. No thought is finished. No job completed. Sentences amble and then abruptly stop. I can’t think of the right word for the moment. Even writing a list is challenging. And well, I do love a list.
I am beside myself with worry about Oscar.
The surgery on his nose last week has knocked him for six and then another. He’s quiet, still even.
And well, quiet and still are descriptions never applied to Oscar, even in his sleep.
I sent him to school yesterday because I thought it would be better for him and I wasn’t sure how I was going to handle having him home another day with the little people because dudes, I’m not sure how much Pro-Evolution Soccer you could endure but me? No amount of Valium is taking the edge of my insanity with that on 24/7.
And he got home saying that school was good with that tone of being surprised that it had been but the note from his aide was all – he was asking for me every five minutes and kept trying to find her mobile for her to ring me to come and get him and quite frankly, I took one look at him this morning and just thought, how much is one kid meant to endure.
So I retired upstairs to mum’s to watch whatever daytime movie was on while xbox soccer reigned supreme downstairs.
I left him at home when I went to pick up Felix because he’s 10 and he didn’t want to come with me and so of course, when 15 minutes later I’m driving home there he is, standing right on the corner of our street making weird faces due to the splint on his nose freaking him out like some abandoned child.
Holy Moly.
I think he’s in some sort of post traumatic shock and I keep thinking get some Rescue Remedy and some arnica drops for him but then never get around to it.
Felix confided in me yesterday that sometimes he plays with girls at school.
Then this morning he told me that Holly pays him 5 cents a day to play with her and sometimes he gets a $1 for two weeks.
I think the attraction is that Holly is clearly hopeless at maths and he realises that is a pretty good profit for playing with the chicks.
Some of you asked about what I did for Felix’s birthday cake this year. This was what was requested:
The perfect party cake of course.
Otherwise, I don’t know, I’ve got nothin.

I went to a zine workshop at the MCA the other weekend.
It was interesting.
Eleanor has written far more eloquently about her scriptwriting workship. Go see.

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