Un-Cycling

Icky Lady Time again. I can't say "that time of the month" anymore because it's no longer such a standardized monthly thing, thank you progesterone-only pill that's supposed to make things better not worse. I spent insane amounts of yesterday and today in coma-mode. Dreams about being on a cruise with my family that turned into a submarine, dreams about doing things and saying things that I then wished I hadn't done or said and couldn't undo or take back, dreams about all my everyday life events so when I wake up I have to double-check my memory bank to make sure I did something and didn't just dream it. Possible Boy and Aural Girl came over to eat leftovers from Sunday night's Indian Food Extravaganza (there's a draft of a post about that night but I never managed to properly verbalize everything so in Blogland it never existed...there's just so much that never makes it into writing...too many infinite factors making up life and I want to express them all and I can't). Aural Girl has a cold. I need to go to the grocery store and thought I'd make her some mazzoh ball soup today. I went to the grocery store in at least one of my dreams. I think I did my Christmas shopping, too. Then I wake up and it's hours and hours later and I never left my bed, never changed my clothes or brushed my teeth.

To be honest, I don't entirely hate it. I hate it when there was something I had to do and missed. Today, I had enough food in the house to put off going to the grocery store. I almost finished rewiring another chandelier. I read the rest of A Wrinkle In Time. And I danced between the realities un, sub, and mostly consciousness. No fighting it, just drift and play with the wonder of wakefulness.