I've posted before of some strange dreams I've had:
Tea & Symbolism
Music-related dream
Those were just dreams that were so weird that I actually remembered them the following morning. For the last two nights, I've had a recurring dream. It's starts like this:
A friend of mine has invited me to go through this dead person's apartment and take whatever I want. The apartment has abnormally high ceilings and everything is bathed in the hazy, yellowish light you see when sunlight is filtered through cigarette smoke and sheer curtains. The apartment looks as if it hasn't been redecorated since the early 70s. The dead person (who I don't know) has some great stuff: art pottery, expensive perfumes, beautiful jewelry, rugs and quilts. I make a sizeable pile in the living room floor and start going through the closets, feeling a bit guilty, a bit like a vulture. You can't take it with you, so I might as well enjoy it....
My friend comes in and tells me that we have to leave immediately if we're going to get to the restaurant in time. Said restaurant is a little European bistro-type place in a mews with similar charming shops around it. Why do we need to get there so fast? Because an accordion player, billed as "Happiness On Two Feet", will be playing there this evening. We arrive at the bistro only to find that it's closed that day, and for some reason I can't go back to the dead person's apartment to get the schwag I picked out.
Sucks to be me, eh? Not with dreams like that! The only other recurring dream I can remember is when I was a teenager, I had several dreams about a tumbleweed with large blue eyes and long, bushy eyelashes that followed me around. Whenever I would try to send it away, the tumbleweed would cry huge salty tears and I'd feel sorry for it, so I'd let it stick around.
Anybody want to venture a guess about all this weirdness?
Monday, February 26, 2007
Saturday, February 24, 2007
Kitty Porn
Above we see Dinsdale "throwing a full-bore rot". She does this when we come home from work, when she sees one of us at the computer or just when she wants us to pay attention to her. The act of "being rotten" entails doing something cute to get us to stop doing whatever it is that we're doing at that moment and fuss over her. We do that anyway but a full-bore rot always stops everything.
Friday, February 23, 2007
Go, me.....and Stop The Insanity!
Last night, I exercised for the first time in over a year. My knees hurt a bit, but that's from arthritis. My upper body is very sore. Still, I felt good enough to exercise and that's half the battle for me. I did one of my favorite aerobics videos; one that's basic, yet still gives a good, solid workout.
I prefer to exercise with videos. Walking outside makes my feet and knees ache, plus by the time I get home at night it's already dark. I don't like going to gyms, even if I could afford to, because they're crowded and usually populated by people who are there to see and be seen, rather than work out. That was always my experience with gyms anyway, maybe they're different now.
I lost weight before I got married by doing several of Susan Powter's videos. Yes, she's obnoxious, but her workout videos are great. No dancing, full of simple, yet effective moves and very easy to follow. She has a new one out called Trailer Park Yoga. Jeez, I'll have to check that out.....
I prefer to exercise with videos. Walking outside makes my feet and knees ache, plus by the time I get home at night it's already dark. I don't like going to gyms, even if I could afford to, because they're crowded and usually populated by people who are there to see and be seen, rather than work out. That was always my experience with gyms anyway, maybe they're different now.
I lost weight before I got married by doing several of Susan Powter's videos. Yes, she's obnoxious, but her workout videos are great. No dancing, full of simple, yet effective moves and very easy to follow. She has a new one out called Trailer Park Yoga. Jeez, I'll have to check that out.....
Tuesday, February 20, 2007
And the winner is.........
Me, I think. I feel better physically this week than I have in a few years. I still have some pain and soreness, but it's in my joints where the arthritis is, not ALL OVER MY BODY. I've only taken 1 painkiller since last Saturday. Bring on the neck shot, I say! I'm hoping that's going to unknot my rock-hard (not in a good way) shoulders and jaw muscles. If it does, I'll be dancing around in circles........
I started my Ebay bidness this past weekend. I'm going to get rid of my early REM stuff. I don't really like them anymore and the stuff is just taking up room, so why not sell it? We need the $$ to pay our taxes anyway and we've got loads of stuff we could sell.......
We got Dinsy a new collar and she must like it because she's been extra lovey-dovey since we put it on her.
Thursday, February 15, 2007
First in a series
This morning, I went to get the first in a series of 3 epidural steroid injections. This one was in my lumbar spine. I had told the nurse practitioner that I would prefer to be knocked out during this procedure, but when I arrived and got checked in today, I was informed that they "don't do that for back shots". So, with only local anesthetic, I got a needle stuck into my spinal column to deliver anti-inflammatory medication and steroid medication, which is supposed to cut or lower the inflamed sensation of the compressed nerves caught between my bulging disc and my torn one. I'll repeat that: I GOT A FUCKING NEEDLE STUCK IN MY SPINE AND THEY WOULDNT KNOCK ME OUT.
Actually, it wasn't THAT bad. I did feel it at certain points, but the whole thing took maybe 10 minutes, tops. I let them know it when I did feel it. My legs felt a bit strange immediately afterward, like I couldn't lift them high enough to not walk like a gimp, but other than soreness, I'm fine now. I may not be that way later tonight, when the numbing medication wears off. The steroids take about 3 days to kick in, so there will be a day or so where I'll be feeling "not so fresh", as they say in the tampon commercials.
Now I'm at home, napping, watching TV and dreading going back to work tomorrow. And yes, I do have to go back to work tomorrow, my boss is already freaking that I took today off. He's working with the flu. Good for him, make everybody sick.
Now, I have to come back on March 1st for the neck shot. They do put you out for that one, I asked the doc......
Actually, it wasn't THAT bad. I did feel it at certain points, but the whole thing took maybe 10 minutes, tops. I let them know it when I did feel it. My legs felt a bit strange immediately afterward, like I couldn't lift them high enough to not walk like a gimp, but other than soreness, I'm fine now. I may not be that way later tonight, when the numbing medication wears off. The steroids take about 3 days to kick in, so there will be a day or so where I'll be feeling "not so fresh", as they say in the tampon commercials.
Now I'm at home, napping, watching TV and dreading going back to work tomorrow. And yes, I do have to go back to work tomorrow, my boss is already freaking that I took today off. He's working with the flu. Good for him, make everybody sick.
Now, I have to come back on March 1st for the neck shot. They do put you out for that one, I asked the doc......
Sunday, February 11, 2007
My Old Job
For 8 years, I worked at the best record store in Dallas. This was when a record store meant "Records", as in vinyl LPs, 45s, etc. We even had a separate room for 78s. We didn't start carrying CDs until 1997. Record collectors are by definition, unusual people, untroubled by new trends, current tastes in popular music and personal hygiene. There are exceptions, but for the most part, I dealt with the smelly ones. Some of the stranger ones are seared on to my memory:
1. The Hudson Family. This family would take the bus down from Michigan every year just to come to the store and buy records, usually 78s. Mom, Dad, little girl and little boy. They would be waiting when I arrived to open the store in the morning and I would have to chase them out at closing time. I remember the little girl, who was about 6 years old at the time, proclaiming to me as I was checking out a customer, "Hey lady, I gotta shit!" Nice. They didn't leave to eat, even when the kids (who were very young) would be crying from hunger. My boss Dorothy would usually go to McDonald's and buy Happy Meals for the kids and chew out the parents for being such assholes. The last time I saw them, as we were totaling up the final bill, Dad said, "Kids, I hope those Happy Meals were good, because we only have enough money for the bus tickets back home. We'll eat again when we get there." Dorothy went absolutely ballistic and threatened to call Child Protective Services unless he put most of those records back and saved enough money to feed his children.
Mrs. Hudson also used to walk around while breastfeeding the little boy in the store, which shouldn't cause any undue alarm; that's what they're FOR, right? But then we meet:
2. Cajun. Never knew his real name, just always called him Cajun. He spoke with exaggerated courtliness, used a carved walking cane and stunk to high heaven. He weighed about 400 lbs., had sparse facial hair and wore overalls and a gimme cap sideways on his head. He was in the store one day when Mrs. Hudson whipped out a tit and started feeding the kid. I noticed him staring and gave him the patented Lisa "Stink Eye", which sent him scurrying to the back of the store. Cajun sidled up to the store manager Chuck, still staring at Mrs. Hudson, and whispered "boy, ya don't see that everyday."
3. Mr. and Mrs. Pop Eye. He was about 5 feet tall, looked like Pop Eye with a beard and he usually came in with his wife, who was about a foot taller and outweighed him by about 200 lbs. She usually sported a black eye or two (he probably stood on a chair to get that high). He bought 45s exclusively. One day I was playing a Sam The Sham Best of LP and when "Wooly Bully" came on, they both started yelling at me to take the record off. I wasn't about to, so I asked what their problem was. Pop Eye said that it was "devil music"....The next time they came in, they had little Jesus pamphlets for me. I politely thanked them, then dropped them into the trash.
4. Phil Donohue. No, not THAT Phil Donohue, this idiot just looked like him. He used to come in and look at jazz LPs and tell me to "TURN IT DOWN!!" whatever I was playing, if it wasn't jazz. I would immediately turn it up, which would send him into paroxysms of anger, amusing me greatly. I caught him switching price tags one day and banned him from the store.
5. The drunk guy who came in with his 2 floozies to stock up his juke box. "Spend mah money for me!" he slurred at me, waving his arms around, "Ah gotta whole jukebox ta fill up!" I told him I could do that, but tomorrow when he sobered up, he wasn't getting his money back. "Ah ain't gunna brang 'em back! Spend mah money!!" So....I spent about $2500 for him. He had a real nice jukebox when I got done. Sure enough, the next day, here he comes, obviously hung over and wanting his money back. No dice, but he had a killer jukebox, so he should have been happy.
6. The rich guy who was a big wig at Texas Instruments and liked to come in and spend loads of money. He would buy anything I recommended, which always happened to be the extremely rare stuff in the front glass case. He never asked for his money back. He was a bit of a prick, though, and I secretly groaned when I saw him coming through the door, because I don't like dealing with pricks, no matter how much money they spend. My manager Chuck had purchased a rare, though unfortunately cracked, Robert Johnson 78 and had a special round wooden frame made to display it in. Rich guy noticed it one day and asked how much? Not for sale.
In a smarmy, prickish tone of voice, he said "Everything has a price. How much is it?"
I called Chuck, who said to tell him $5000 just to shut him up. So I told the guy $5 grand and he said, "I'll take it, and these other ones you picked out for me (about $600 worth of stuff). How do I get it out of that frame?"
Why did he want a cracked, rare 78 that available on various LPs out of the frame? He wanted to PLAY it. I told him, NO!! you do NOT want to play that, you'll ruin it! He said in the same smarmy voice "It's mine now, I'll do what I want with it." Prick.......but I got something out of him.....
A friend of Chuck's used to do stereo equipment repair and also sold high-end stereo equipment. Rich guy brought up a turn table and said to give to Chuck's pal to fix. I assumed he meant the same guy, so I gave it to Chuck's pal. Turns out it was meant for another friend, but the pal fixed it and rich guy ended up buying $100k worth of equipment and I got a very nice SOTA turntable for free out of the deal. Very nice....
7. Several Dallas cops used to come in and buy every copy of Johnny Reb's racist 45s we had. Made me glad I wasn't black or Mexican while living in Dallas....
8. An LBJ look-alike who came in regularly, always wearing the same polyester disco shirt which pictures of trees on it and obviously was never washed. Two things always happened when "LBJ" came in the store: my co-worker Steve and I would look at each other and chant in stereo, "Ah shall not seek and Ah will not accept the nomination of mah party fo another term as yore Prezident", and Dorothy would follow the guy around the store spraying Lysol in his wake, all the while scowling at him furiously. LBJ was completely oblivious to all of this.
9. The effeminate little weirdo who always came in for his Joni James and Judy Garland LPs. He was extremely annoying and mistakenly assumed that any of us gave a shit about his very existence. He would call after he left the store so we knew that he got home OK. He got married at one point to a girl who (this seems to be a re-occurring theme) outweighed him by 200 lbs. and brought in their honeymoon scrapbook (it was about 9 inches thick, which is more than he could say) to show us. No thanks, I just had lunch.
I thought I left him behind when I started working somewhere else, but to my dismay, he started working at my fave CD store in Dallas. I walked in one day and hear "Hiiiiiiiiii, Liiiiiiiisssssssaaaaaaaa!!!!! Did you miiiiiiisssssss meeeeeeeee?" Sure, like I miss an axe in my head. He also assaulted me at every record show in Austin, even when I was pointedly rude to him.
"Hiiiiiiiii, Liiiiiiisssssssaaaaaa!"
"FUCK OFF!"
"Ooohhhh, Liiiiiiiissssssssaaaaaaaa, you're suuuuuuuch a jooooooooker!"
"FUCK OFF OR I'LL KILL YOU!"
"Ooooohhhh, Liiiiiissssssssaaaaaaaa, you're ssssoooooo fuuuuuuunnnnyyyyy!!!!!".
10. One day, there was a big news story about a guy who killed his wife and kids and himself. Apparently, he had been abusive to them and wife had threatened to leave and take the kids, and the guy freaked out and killed them all then blew his head off. A sad story. We were discussing this in the store that Saturday when 2 teenage girls come in. They ask if we have a 45 of "Love Hurts" by Nazareth. I get it for them and they ask if I can play it for them. We had a little headphone player so people could try out records, but someone was using it, so I put it on the overhead system. As soon as the singing starts, the girls cling to each other and start WAILING. Everyone in the store is staring at them and I ask them to please keep it down. I'm thinking, "oh, they've got broken hearts, puppy love, etc". One of the girls stutters out that they want the record for their brother's funeral. It was their brother who had killed his family and then himself. Cue Twilight Zone theme.......
1. The Hudson Family. This family would take the bus down from Michigan every year just to come to the store and buy records, usually 78s. Mom, Dad, little girl and little boy. They would be waiting when I arrived to open the store in the morning and I would have to chase them out at closing time. I remember the little girl, who was about 6 years old at the time, proclaiming to me as I was checking out a customer, "Hey lady, I gotta shit!" Nice. They didn't leave to eat, even when the kids (who were very young) would be crying from hunger. My boss Dorothy would usually go to McDonald's and buy Happy Meals for the kids and chew out the parents for being such assholes. The last time I saw them, as we were totaling up the final bill, Dad said, "Kids, I hope those Happy Meals were good, because we only have enough money for the bus tickets back home. We'll eat again when we get there." Dorothy went absolutely ballistic and threatened to call Child Protective Services unless he put most of those records back and saved enough money to feed his children.
Mrs. Hudson also used to walk around while breastfeeding the little boy in the store, which shouldn't cause any undue alarm; that's what they're FOR, right? But then we meet:
2. Cajun. Never knew his real name, just always called him Cajun. He spoke with exaggerated courtliness, used a carved walking cane and stunk to high heaven. He weighed about 400 lbs., had sparse facial hair and wore overalls and a gimme cap sideways on his head. He was in the store one day when Mrs. Hudson whipped out a tit and started feeding the kid. I noticed him staring and gave him the patented Lisa "Stink Eye", which sent him scurrying to the back of the store. Cajun sidled up to the store manager Chuck, still staring at Mrs. Hudson, and whispered "boy, ya don't see that everyday."
3. Mr. and Mrs. Pop Eye. He was about 5 feet tall, looked like Pop Eye with a beard and he usually came in with his wife, who was about a foot taller and outweighed him by about 200 lbs. She usually sported a black eye or two (he probably stood on a chair to get that high). He bought 45s exclusively. One day I was playing a Sam The Sham Best of LP and when "Wooly Bully" came on, they both started yelling at me to take the record off. I wasn't about to, so I asked what their problem was. Pop Eye said that it was "devil music"....The next time they came in, they had little Jesus pamphlets for me. I politely thanked them, then dropped them into the trash.
4. Phil Donohue. No, not THAT Phil Donohue, this idiot just looked like him. He used to come in and look at jazz LPs and tell me to "TURN IT DOWN!!" whatever I was playing, if it wasn't jazz. I would immediately turn it up, which would send him into paroxysms of anger, amusing me greatly. I caught him switching price tags one day and banned him from the store.
5. The drunk guy who came in with his 2 floozies to stock up his juke box. "Spend mah money for me!" he slurred at me, waving his arms around, "Ah gotta whole jukebox ta fill up!" I told him I could do that, but tomorrow when he sobered up, he wasn't getting his money back. "Ah ain't gunna brang 'em back! Spend mah money!!" So....I spent about $2500 for him. He had a real nice jukebox when I got done. Sure enough, the next day, here he comes, obviously hung over and wanting his money back. No dice, but he had a killer jukebox, so he should have been happy.
6. The rich guy who was a big wig at Texas Instruments and liked to come in and spend loads of money. He would buy anything I recommended, which always happened to be the extremely rare stuff in the front glass case. He never asked for his money back. He was a bit of a prick, though, and I secretly groaned when I saw him coming through the door, because I don't like dealing with pricks, no matter how much money they spend. My manager Chuck had purchased a rare, though unfortunately cracked, Robert Johnson 78 and had a special round wooden frame made to display it in. Rich guy noticed it one day and asked how much? Not for sale.
In a smarmy, prickish tone of voice, he said "Everything has a price. How much is it?"
I called Chuck, who said to tell him $5000 just to shut him up. So I told the guy $5 grand and he said, "I'll take it, and these other ones you picked out for me (about $600 worth of stuff). How do I get it out of that frame?"
Why did he want a cracked, rare 78 that available on various LPs out of the frame? He wanted to PLAY it. I told him, NO!! you do NOT want to play that, you'll ruin it! He said in the same smarmy voice "It's mine now, I'll do what I want with it." Prick.......but I got something out of him.....
A friend of Chuck's used to do stereo equipment repair and also sold high-end stereo equipment. Rich guy brought up a turn table and said to give to Chuck's pal to fix. I assumed he meant the same guy, so I gave it to Chuck's pal. Turns out it was meant for another friend, but the pal fixed it and rich guy ended up buying $100k worth of equipment and I got a very nice SOTA turntable for free out of the deal. Very nice....
7. Several Dallas cops used to come in and buy every copy of Johnny Reb's racist 45s we had. Made me glad I wasn't black or Mexican while living in Dallas....
8. An LBJ look-alike who came in regularly, always wearing the same polyester disco shirt which pictures of trees on it and obviously was never washed. Two things always happened when "LBJ" came in the store: my co-worker Steve and I would look at each other and chant in stereo, "Ah shall not seek and Ah will not accept the nomination of mah party fo another term as yore Prezident", and Dorothy would follow the guy around the store spraying Lysol in his wake, all the while scowling at him furiously. LBJ was completely oblivious to all of this.
9. The effeminate little weirdo who always came in for his Joni James and Judy Garland LPs. He was extremely annoying and mistakenly assumed that any of us gave a shit about his very existence. He would call after he left the store so we knew that he got home OK. He got married at one point to a girl who (this seems to be a re-occurring theme) outweighed him by 200 lbs. and brought in their honeymoon scrapbook (it was about 9 inches thick, which is more than he could say) to show us. No thanks, I just had lunch.
I thought I left him behind when I started working somewhere else, but to my dismay, he started working at my fave CD store in Dallas. I walked in one day and hear "Hiiiiiiiiii, Liiiiiiiisssssssaaaaaaaa!!!!! Did you miiiiiiisssssss meeeeeeeee?" Sure, like I miss an axe in my head. He also assaulted me at every record show in Austin, even when I was pointedly rude to him.
"Hiiiiiiiii, Liiiiiiisssssssaaaaaa!"
"FUCK OFF!"
"Ooohhhh, Liiiiiiiissssssssaaaaaaaa, you're suuuuuuuch a jooooooooker!"
"FUCK OFF OR I'LL KILL YOU!"
"Ooooohhhh, Liiiiiissssssssaaaaaaaa, you're ssssoooooo fuuuuuuunnnnyyyyy!!!!!".
10. One day, there was a big news story about a guy who killed his wife and kids and himself. Apparently, he had been abusive to them and wife had threatened to leave and take the kids, and the guy freaked out and killed them all then blew his head off. A sad story. We were discussing this in the store that Saturday when 2 teenage girls come in. They ask if we have a 45 of "Love Hurts" by Nazareth. I get it for them and they ask if I can play it for them. We had a little headphone player so people could try out records, but someone was using it, so I put it on the overhead system. As soon as the singing starts, the girls cling to each other and start WAILING. Everyone in the store is staring at them and I ask them to please keep it down. I'm thinking, "oh, they've got broken hearts, puppy love, etc". One of the girls stutters out that they want the record for their brother's funeral. It was their brother who had killed his family and then himself. Cue Twilight Zone theme.......
Tuesday, February 06, 2007
a visit with my inner child
Anybody who knows me knows that I live with my inner child on the outside pretty much all the time. During my visit with the "pain counselor" today, he asked me what my childhood as like. So....I told him. After he picked his jaw up off the floor, he suggested that I "pay a visit to my inner child" in order to lend comfort. As he led me through a visualization of walking near the ocean (something which freaks me out) and coming upon a "small, forlorn figure all alone on the beach", I was overcome with sadness and asked him to stop. The "small, forlorn figure" was supposed to be my 8 year old self and I was supposed to be the strong capapble adult, lending a comforting hand. What could I tell that 8 year old girl that would be of any comfort whatsoever?
1. Cheer up! You only have one more year of being molested, then he'll get tired of you. He'll die eventually and you only have to keep it a secret for 10 more years...
2. You'll be happily married one day, but you'll have to live through 3 suicide attempts, your beloved mother's fatal illness and pain-filled death, the death of your beloved grandmother after years of wasting away in a nursing home, and an abortion...
3. You'll be somewhat happy one day, but until then, you'll be hospitalized for depression and be on every anti-depressant on the market and you'll have chronic health problems starting in your late 30s.....
4. Your father will continue to make stabs at trying to be your friend, then ignore you when something else comes along, so you can give up trying to get his attention....
I'd just as soon leave my inner child in the past and continue having a happy second childhood. I don't like talking about all that stuff, because truly, what good does it do? It sure doesn't make me feel better, and who wants to hear that crap? I only told him because I'm paying him to listen to me and I'm only posting about it here because it's the only memorable thing to happen to me today, except for doing our taxes......
I haven't even begun to tell him ALL the stuff that happened. I just gave bullet points and that's probably all he'll get out of me. It's in the past and that's where it will stay.....
1. Cheer up! You only have one more year of being molested, then he'll get tired of you. He'll die eventually and you only have to keep it a secret for 10 more years...
2. You'll be happily married one day, but you'll have to live through 3 suicide attempts, your beloved mother's fatal illness and pain-filled death, the death of your beloved grandmother after years of wasting away in a nursing home, and an abortion...
3. You'll be somewhat happy one day, but until then, you'll be hospitalized for depression and be on every anti-depressant on the market and you'll have chronic health problems starting in your late 30s.....
4. Your father will continue to make stabs at trying to be your friend, then ignore you when something else comes along, so you can give up trying to get his attention....
I'd just as soon leave my inner child in the past and continue having a happy second childhood. I don't like talking about all that stuff, because truly, what good does it do? It sure doesn't make me feel better, and who wants to hear that crap? I only told him because I'm paying him to listen to me and I'm only posting about it here because it's the only memorable thing to happen to me today, except for doing our taxes......
I haven't even begun to tell him ALL the stuff that happened. I just gave bullet points and that's probably all he'll get out of me. It's in the past and that's where it will stay.....
Thursday, February 01, 2007
Where do I start?
Hmmmm......went back to pain doc today to get results of the MRIs on my neck and lower back. She was right: I have 2 bulging discs (or dicks, if this was the Greenville Herald-Banner) in my neck, one of which is pressing against and flattening my spinal cord; and 2 bulging discs in my lower back, one of which is torn and possibly leaking fluid. These are what have been causing the pain, along with the arthritis in all of my joints. The solution: epidural injections in my spine, or surgery if those don't work. I have the first injection on Feb. 15th. I'll be put under for it, so I get the day off work.
I got prescriptions for Lexapro (antidepressant) and Ultram (painkiller), of which I took the first doses today before lunch and promptly got a blinding migraine. The pharmacist called me at work right before I came home and told me to not take those together because of "increased risk of seizures". Cool! I told her she was too late and asked her to please refill my migraine meds. Note to self: start the Lexapro AFTER the injections, because I may not need the painkiller after then....
The night before last, my allergies were bugging me and I was out of Zicam, the homeopathic remedy I usually take for such. Instead, I took an over-the-counter allergy med from the grocery store and also an extra half pill of my muscle relaxer, since the pain was especially bad that night. About 30 minutes later,, I got really sleepy and went to bed. As I was laying in bed, I noticed a swarm of huge spiders come out of the ceiling fan. Then, I saw hands reach out for me from my peripheral vision. I freaked out and called for Adrian, who came into the bedroom. I had to ask him, why do you have a clown face on? He didn't. I could see it even though my eyes were closed. Great, I'm hallucinating! Now, I do sleepwalk, but I don't have nightmarish things happen when I sleepwalk and Adrian can always talk me out of it. These were full-on hallucinations, which, back in the day, would have been welcomed and even sought after, but shit, I was trying to sleep. The spiders, clown faces and reaching hands kept up until I finally drifted off to an uneasy sleep about 3:30am.
So that's been my fun week....
I got prescriptions for Lexapro (antidepressant) and Ultram (painkiller), of which I took the first doses today before lunch and promptly got a blinding migraine. The pharmacist called me at work right before I came home and told me to not take those together because of "increased risk of seizures". Cool! I told her she was too late and asked her to please refill my migraine meds. Note to self: start the Lexapro AFTER the injections, because I may not need the painkiller after then....
The night before last, my allergies were bugging me and I was out of Zicam, the homeopathic remedy I usually take for such. Instead, I took an over-the-counter allergy med from the grocery store and also an extra half pill of my muscle relaxer, since the pain was especially bad that night. About 30 minutes later,, I got really sleepy and went to bed. As I was laying in bed, I noticed a swarm of huge spiders come out of the ceiling fan. Then, I saw hands reach out for me from my peripheral vision. I freaked out and called for Adrian, who came into the bedroom. I had to ask him, why do you have a clown face on? He didn't. I could see it even though my eyes were closed. Great, I'm hallucinating! Now, I do sleepwalk, but I don't have nightmarish things happen when I sleepwalk and Adrian can always talk me out of it. These were full-on hallucinations, which, back in the day, would have been welcomed and even sought after, but shit, I was trying to sleep. The spiders, clown faces and reaching hands kept up until I finally drifted off to an uneasy sleep about 3:30am.
So that's been my fun week....
