Hubby talks in his sleep sometimes, and sometimes I don't know he's asleep because he holds conversations. Except that the sleep him is nasty. I've learned to recognize Id!Hubby by the different timbre of the voice. He's told me things that have driven me to tears. Hubby once asked me, in re: a show we were watching, if he'd ever said anything to me that I've never called him on, and I told him about Id!Hubby. He was horrified. He swore for ten minutes that the things that were said were nothing he'd ever think and that he was so sorry I'd heard anything like that.
I believe him, and I forgive him. It still upsets him when he thinks about it. But his brain conjured the things, and his voice said them, so somewhere, down where he can't see, the thought exists. Goddess knows the things I think that I wouldn't say under torture, so it's one of the things that you just have to let go.
Also? I have this fucked up thing going on with my elbow. When I put pressure on it in a certain place, it feels like there's a piece of glass in there or something. OW!
It's the gummint's tracking chip. Go get a penknife, some ethyl alcohol and a some tin foil, stat.
Also? I have this fucked up thing going on with my elbow. When I put pressure on it in a certain place, it feels like there's a piece of glass in there or something. OW!
Bursitis?
t Dr. Google
I hate to say this, but that really sounds like shingles.
Much more fun than just weeping sores! *sigh* Now I'm thinking I should call my doc and ask her to call the script before everyone leaves for the weekend.
I prefer asschapeau.
Are you going to fly your ass out here and clean the diet coke off my screen???
I had the nerve-affecting shingles. Not as painful as breaking one's face, but right the hell up there.
{{{{{{alls mah Bitches}}}}}}
I'm very weepy today. I'm sure there's a lot of reasons, such as not feeling "safe" anywhere but at home and then feeling listless and depressed when I'm at home, the glacial pace of my jobhunt, screwing up in a major, easily-avoidable, and expensive way at my job today, dreading the 2 1/2 hour meeting my boss and I will be having starting at 2:30, and my current illness. It all adds up to one giant pit of soul-sucking, though, and I'd like to not be weeping at my desk.
oh, juliana. I'm sorry for so much suck going on right now.
It's the gummint's tracking chip. Go get a penknife, some ethyl alcohol and a some tin foil, stat.
Seriously!
The only reason I haven't already done this is because I am superwuss, and the fear of cutting myself far outweighs a) actual pain, even pain this hurty/stabby, and b) the fear of being tracked by alien/government/pan-dimensional microchip.
I am bewildered by losing a piece of paper on my desk. It is nowhere to be found!
{{{juliana, Cash, Sean, S, everybody}}}
The only reason I haven't already done this is because I am superwuss, and the fear of cutting myself far outweighs a) actual pain, even pain this hurty/stabby, and b) the fear of being tracked by alien/government/pan-dimensional microchip.
Hey, if you don't mind the alien overlords headquartered at Area 51 knowing your lunchmeat preferences, it's up to you.
