In honor of Mena's quotable quote, I continue with my rather detailed, if not tiresome, daily meanderings through smokelessness.
When last you saw your heroine, she was so depressed she stayed in bed all day, with brief bouts of consciousness to drop off and pick up her child from gymnastics, and tend to her here and there, and then return to bed to watch A Goofy Movie with her.
Today was a bit better. I made it to the grocery store. For some, a menial task. For me, Filmore Hall. I even remembered to get dog food, which considering we were out, made both me and the dogs happy.
I had the extra energy I needed to deposit a check (from back in the days when I actually HAD work to do--Hello August I feel ya comin' you dry-as-a-bone mofo). The teller was approximately 10 steps from where I checked out at the grocery store--a real triumph!
I have therapy tonight, so I get to leave the house again in a half hour.
This is what it's like for me without my best worst friend. I'm not as down today. We watched a DVD this afternoon which was highly maudlin, and I felt better.
argh.
