Good and bad

Today was a mixture of good and bad. Bad; being woken up by my mother after another almost sleepless night. Good; finding a necklace I’ve been eyeing up for a while had been reduced to half price. Bad; forgetting to pick my antidepressant prescription up. Good; S called me, just to say hello. Bad; stuffing my face with cake. Good; the Metformin I’ve been on for three days (to counteract the PCOS symptoms) has given me an upset stomach, so I’m still going to lose a small amount of weight. Bad; listening to my mother arguing with my sister (W) on the ‘phone about my stepfather’s ashes.

He died over a year ago, and the family is still torn apart over it. Why can’t they understand that he’s not contained in those ashes; that wherever he is, won’t be where it’s decided to put them? We’ve lost enough over the years, why do we need to fall out over something like this?

First World Problems

Today was the day of the iPod disaster. When I say disaster, I mean minor problem, but it annoyed me nonetheless. After waking up around 2pm and still feeling like fibro had kicked me repeatedly in the night, I decided to tidy my iTunes music collection up. First I tackled the missing cover art; thousands of tracks, all missing artwork. After getting it down to 2000 tracks without art, I gave up and accepted I was never going to have the patience to go through each individual track, just to satisfy my occasional obsessive-compulsive behaviour. 2000 out of over 20,000 isn’t bad, right?

So, with dreams of a nice tidy music collection washing over me (and the knowledge of a day entirely wasted), I went to sync my iPod. Here lay the problem.

121.76gb of music will never fit on a 120gb iPod. Never. No matter how much I beg, plead, and pretend it will.

Fuck’s sake.

Fibro flare, antibiotics and a blue sick-bucket.

  I am tired.

It’s a combination of tiredness. Fibromyalgia tiredness is undoubtedly one of them, as my shoulder blade has started aching again and my right foot is crunching every time I move it; a sure sign that I’m flaring. Activity-tiredness as well; although I haven’t done much, S came to visit me, and even though we only talked as I lay in bed, it sometimes wears me out just making the effort to speak. Add illness-tiredness to that list (I’ve been on antibiotics over the past few days, vomiting and nursing a killer migraine), and so I can’t pinpoint exactly what is making me feel so lethargic.

I suppose it doesn’t matter, to most people. It does to me though… after being so out of control when it comes to my health, I feel like I need to have a concrete reason for everything.

So even though I had planned to do a lot of writing today, the temptation to go to bed is much stronger. I know I won’t fall asleep; anxiety over a lack of knock-out pills (confession time; I found two packets of 30mg codeine in my mum’s bedroom. I’ve taken all but two of them over the past few days, losing myself in a sleepy, confused, comfortable haze) will keep me awake for a while. Somehow, low-fat Ovaltine and chain-smoking is nowhere near a suitable substitute for opiates.

Still, I’m not unhappy. Being visited by S has made my week. I managed to convince myself (again) he would leave me because I’m always ill, but he cycled miles through the hottest day of the year, just to sit on my bed and hold my hand. So no. I’m not unhappy.