Poke Her Face

My hands are covered in dry superglue. I made a bunch of cards with envelopes to match. I can't sell the sum total of what I did for more than $30, but I left a mess and I created things and I enjoyed the process and my head is better now than when this day began.

More things I want to write about but I'm crashing (finally...sleeping much of the day has me wide awake past 1 AM). I'll write a treatise on Lady Gaga as a songwriter and Gagaism as the new dadaism later. Just watch this because it is in my head and totally changed my opinion of Lady Gaga:

crafts and crap and life and strife and monkey and chunky

Saturday, I was a real person again! On my way out the door I ran into my cousin-in-law, who was rehearsing for a play in the lobby of my building. I then ran errands and met with a friend at the Handmade Market, a craft fair at a bar, coincidentally located around the corner from where my cousins live. It was pretty entertaining and I managed to buy only a $2.50 home-made lipgloss that is really quite lovely, though I was smitten with a series of bracelets made from old watch faces and subway tokens, but I don't wear bracelets and didn't know for whom to buy one. As we were heading towards the door to look for food, I was thinking I should call my cousins and ask where Bite, a restaurant I'd been to a few times with them that I liked very much, was located. Then I noticed that one of the exits for the bar actually led into Bite. So we ate at Bite and the food took forever and I was very hungry but it was good and the conversation was good and I was out and social and human, even if we were surrounded by hipsters. On my way home I stopped at Joann Crafts and spent too much money, came home and immediately made a completely lovely set of cards and one of my weirdest cards ever. I listed them on Etsy before going to bed, and the really weird one sold Sunday morning! I win.

Sunday morning, NBF and I drove my old car to my family-friends' house and signed papers and picked up my new car! I have a new car! 2003 Saab 9-5! It is GORGEOUS! It is all silver and sleek and pretty and leather and has seat warmers and I have to be nice to it and not mess it up because it is too nice to mess up. I even put a towel down on the front seat because my dog was getting snowy salty paw prints on it when we drove to my parents' house and I didn't want it to have snowy salty paw prints. It's too pretty to have snowy salty paw prints. Pretty pretty princess car.

Last night I went to my parents' for dinner. Brisket and latkes and menorah lighting. Jewish much? I'd mentioned that I had to leave first thing this morning because I had a lot to do today, with going to the DMV and errands and phone calls and whatnot now that I'm functional again and it would be a weekday. My mom was asking about all the specifics of my phone calls and such, as though it were interesting conversation. I hate talking about that crap. It's lame and annoying enough to have to do it without it becoming the topic of polite conversation. Plus as soon as my mom knows I have to do something, she takes it as something she has to remind me to do. So I kept being vague despite her odd prodding and changed the subject.

I frequently dream about being walked in on when I'm changing or going to the bathroom, or that strange uninvited people keep getting into my house or apartment even after I thought I locked all the doors. My subconscious isn't always subtle.

I drove home from my parents' this morning feeling that thick heavy pre-migraine tired, but I didn't sleep well last night, so I figured I'd pop pills and crash for an hour before getting started on my errands. Woke up with my alarm and MIGRAINE. Again. Fuck. More pills, more sleep. Still migraine. Basically slept all day and it's still here. I have another doctor's appointment in the morning, this time with a new internist, and since it's right next door to NBF's school I was driving him down there anyway, so maybe he'll get to do the driving and we'll see what New Doc can do for me if the headache doesn't die overnight. Fuckfuckfuck.

At least I'm getting several real days of real functioning between my migraine days now. Even if this is the new pattern, it's a better pattern. Let's go, optimism!

Woohoo!

Just sold my first thing on Etsy! Now I have to go buy ink to print it up and envelopes big enough for it to fit. Weeeeeee!

thankfully home

Sunday I was feeling much better. My parents came and we went to brunch and I ordered a frittata containing spinach on purpose. We went grocery shopping and my mom tried putting things away in my kitchen because she doesn't like having things out or that I still have things in boxes. I prefer it that way for now because I only use the dishes I need and they don't pile up, plus having some of my food things on the counter makes it so I know what I have without having to dig through my deep cupboards. The eternal battle continues. We then tried to jump my car and failed, so my parents called their auto club and the guy came and got it going but said the starter was shot so we should get it to where it could stay until we had it towed and fixed. Since I am getting New Car as soon as I am physically capable of going and dealing with the license plates, we figured it made the most sense to drive my car back to my parents' house and I'd get the New Car Tuesdayish. Lots of driving and a chili cheese dog from Gold Coast Dogs later, I was dropped back at my apartment sans car.

Monday I woke up dead. Tuesday, too. Dead dead dead. Wednesday I still felt like crap but the original plan was that I would drive to my parents' Wednesday night to see my siblings (returning from LA and college in Iowa) and help with Thanksgiving prep. Instead, my mom picked up my corpse and my dog on the way back from getting my sister from the airport.

Wednesday night through yesterday is a blur of pain and my mom's leftover hydrocodone and noise and people and my brother's massage chair. For Thanksgiving itself I drugged the living hell out of myself (hydrocodone and Aleve at maximum doses) so I could be social and enjoy the food. I apparently did very well, though mostly I remember staring at my cousin-in-law's very shiny diamond rings (and I always thought the shiny stoner thing was a joke!) and rattling off things I was thankful for every time the general conversation got too far into the gutter. I think I was the only person to do the "I'm thankful for..." thing at all.

The best thing about all those days at my parents' house was how happy it made my dog. He got spoiled like crazy between my dad and my sister, and even my mom fed him bits of leftovers when she felt too bad staring at his "orphan eyes." He got to run around in the yard whenever he felt like it, and by day 3 didn't even try to wake me, going instead to scratch at my parents' door until someone came and let him out. He even started snuggling with my dad after over three years of my dad trying to win his affection.
My brother's massage chair was also excellent. I spent at least 3 hours in it over the four days, digging through my unbelievably tight shoulder and neck muscle knots. I really want to steal it from him, but he spent his bar mitzvah money on it, so that wouldn't be fair. My parents are talking about getting me my own, anyway, I just have to try out the different models to figure out which would be the most helpful.

I wish my parents' house didn't stress me out quite so much, because it would be an easy and obvious solution to Incapacitated Annabell. But it never gets completely quiet and the concerned looks on my parents faces tend to worry me more than my own afflictions, and not even a massage chair is better than good sleep in the dark and quiet. I feel bad for my dog, but otherwise it's good to be back in my own hole, listening to free audiobooks (LibriVox is awesome and brilliant and you should check it out) and working on things I can try to sell on etsy.com (my username is my real name equivalent to AnnabellJo, as in FirstnameMiddlename). This is my new life.