Countdown
Classes start a week from tomorrow, and in typical crazybrain fashion I've been fretting that I haven't done nearly the amount of reading or writing I had wanted to in order to get ready for whatever this semester is going to bring. (Because seriously, what have I gotten myself into? No idea.) So of course I mention this to my oh-so-helpful therapist, who bursts out laughing. Seriously! Laughs in my face. And says, "[Frog], school hasn't started yet."
Right. I knew I was forgetting something. So we then went and talked about the sickfrog dream, which has left me baffled since I'm out of practice in thinking about dreams (I suspect these new crazybrain drugs are suppressing my otherwise overactive brain a bit at night -- which is fine, because that means sleeping through the night!). She then easily tied it into, oh, my entire life, because she knows the all the damn stories already. Which is my way of saying, again, f*ck you to my crappy local HMO who keeps insisting that really I should switch to someone in their network.
I hope the crocodile and the hippopotamus eat them. And their network.
Right. I knew I was forgetting something. So we then went and talked about the sickfrog dream, which has left me baffled since I'm out of practice in thinking about dreams (I suspect these new crazybrain drugs are suppressing my otherwise overactive brain a bit at night -- which is fine, because that means sleeping through the night!). She then easily tied it into, oh, my entire life, because she knows the all the damn stories already. Which is my way of saying, again, f*ck you to my crappy local HMO who keeps insisting that really I should switch to someone in their network.
I hope the crocodile and the hippopotamus eat them. And their network.