ysobel: A man wielding a kitchen knife and making an adorable yelling face (rage)
Ugh why are people so ... peopley

and why does prednisone make me rage over something that's nbd

(Okay because prednisone yeah)

and why am I so fucking hot and so very not asleep

(hint it probably rhymes more or less with dread-piss-moan)


I do not even have stomps boots to stomp around in. Or a dinosaur onesie to wear while going rawr.
ysobel: (fail)
News at 11: isa is a fucked-up-in-the-head insecure clueless little penguin with many issues that are deeply entrenched.

Bonus news: prednisone doesn't actually make these things better.
ysobel: A kitten curled up, one paw half over its face; text: ow (ow)
Duck, I'm an idiot.

I generally take both ibuprofen and Vicodin daily -- the first for being an anti-inflammatory more than pain relief. I got sloppy with the refill issue and had a couple of days where I didn't have any because I ran out but the refill hadn't gotten processed. I took extra Vicodin (within the prescribed Vicodin amount, just more than I usually take) to compensate.

I forgot, until my body reminded me tonight, that rebound headaches are a thing.

I also *forgot that ibuprofen comes in ducking non-prescription levels*. Yes, the dosage is lower, but for a few days taking a handful of smaller pills to make up the prescribed amount would get me the same thing. And avoid the headache.

Mrgh. Ducking idiot.

Also my ducking autocorrect needs to learn how to ducking swear.
ysobel: (Default)
My brain is freaking *weird*.

Okay, yes, this is not a surprise. But there is no other way to explain the fact that right now -- sleep deprived from "too ow to sleep", in pain (though it's down to, like, 2, on a 1-10 scale; it was 7 last night, then 4 once I found some of my pain meds), drugged to the gills, tired, &c. -- I am about a million times more cheerful and even *productive* than normal.

I mean. I'm not (for the most part) beating myself up about getting hurt again, even though sigma could easily find ways to blame me (I didn't deliberately do anything, but arguably I was careless). I'm finally getting around to doing some of the shit I should have done a long time ago. My computer is having major issues and sluggishness, and it's not even really frustrating me. And when my eyeglasses decided that it would be epic fun to break (one lens popped out, and the screw that holds the frame together is mysteriously not there), instead of flailing or being miserable, I just dug out the phone book, called my eye doctor person (with sufficient apologies for disturbing her at home, but she lives like two blocks away from me and has done home calls before) and she volunteered to come over and dig up my old glasses and help me put them on and take the new glasses and fix them on Monday and bring them back to me.


... yeah, I don't even know. *regards self with wry amusement*

(pain meds: a new treatment for depression! okay, so you won't have a brain or be able to stay awake, but who needs that anyway?
ysobel: (Default)
(did I mention that vicodin makes me babbly?)

Didn't go to church today -- in large part because I keep zoning the fuck out from the vicodin, and falling asleep during the sermon tends to be bad. As does falling asleep during the parts where I'm supposed to be singing.

(the advantage of the whole situation is that I am having absolutely *no* trouble getting to sleep at night. which is a nice change.)

Unsurprisingly, my foot and ankle still hurt. Well. It's really sort of more of an ache, given the pain meds. Weird thing is that the part that hurt initially -- the top middle of my foot -- has been overtaken by pain in the ankle. not sure if that's related to the moon boot (which, given the angle I stand at, means that the front of my shin and ankle are taking some of the weigjt stress) or what.

*pauses to zone out for a while, eyes unfocused*

...at least I have an excuse for being unproductive?

And now I've forgotten the other stuff I was going to post about. bother.
ysobel: (Default)
Dear universe,

My life has been kind of sucky lately. I mean, really, I'd think you'd get tired of messing with my body, but apparently not.

As compensation, I would please like the following:

* A pony. Preferably a unicorn pony. Maybe with sparkles.

* Porn. Lots of it. Also rum.

* A handful -- four, maybe, two of each gender -- of assistants that I can use for research purposes regarding sex. (When they are off duty they can, um, sleep, or give me backrubs, or make me yummy drinks.)

* A service dog. With one of those talking collars from Up.

* A telepathic mind-to-'paper' device for getting stories out of my head properly.

* A Kindle or other e-book-reader, so I can see whether it's easier to handle than books are. Oh, and plenty of free books.

* A functional teleporter, so that I can have frequent doses of [personal profile] jmtorres. (And also can go to [personal profile] synecdochic's and [personal profile] rb's stitch-and-bitch sessions. And also visit other awesome people. And also go to the coast where it is cool.)

* More penguins.

Thank you.

Sincerely, and a bit loopily,
-[personal profile] ysobel

(apparently, in addition to being a nice painkiller, vicodin makes me babble a lot. who knew?)


ysobel: (Default)
masquerading as a man with a reason

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