It wouldn't be December if I were healthy

[innerbrat]

I'm still pinning my hopes on the fact that my current virus will no longer be infectious by the time baby comes. I said yesterday that I thought it was peaking and was only going to get better from here. I was, obviously, wrong, and this morning could barely walk straight. Right in the middle of party season, too. Oh fun.

Last night I decided to give myself a panic attack, which might have had a number of factors:

1. the new Gamesoc is fun and lively but the acoustics in the room are really echoey and I  became overwhelmed and panicky (I won War on Terror, though. That's a plus)
2. I didn't eat well yesterday and have a cold.
3. Presumably because of my high stress levels, I've been  indulging myself in storytelling about what people think of me, are saying about me, will say to me blah blah blah. None of this is based in fact, of course. Just me making stuff up.

I received a holiday card from
TBQ this morning and went to find some ribbon or something to start putting them up, when I discovered a whole bunch of 87p Christmas stamps from years past. Excited by this discovery, I went to check last post dates, discovered it was today and was all ready to send out a limited selection of cards to prevent me from feeling too ungenerous this unemployed holiday. Then I checked postage.

Cards to the States are £1.22 this year. That's one dollar eighty, guys. Sorry, but I'm going to have to skip out on all monetary gestures this year.

Fortunately, I'm secure in my connections enough that this doesn't actually worry me anymore. One day I'll have a job again, you'll see.

So yeah, here I am feeling sorry for myself, trying to write my thesis, and intending any minute now to put clothes on and go buy myself some juice for the vitamin C. The hat, you'll be pleased to know, is all but finished (I need to get myself a darning needle) and I have found a nice easy pattern for boots. I'm working away from mental issues and taking a day. A day in which I am working on the thesis, but still a day to be comfortable in. No parties, no worrying about people saying things to me or about me, just a day. There may even be a bath later.

So I guess, what I'm saying is: I'm sick, and I'm grouchy and I'm prone to anxiety attacks, but really, I'm OK.