Tying up some loose ends
A couple of months ago, I fretted about starting perimenopause due to night sweats and insomnia. Some people suggested a medication as the culprit and I pooh-poohed the idea since I'd been on those meds for months with no ill effects. Well, it turns out that the cause was a too-high dose of Cymbalta. My shrink cut the dose by a third to stop manic episodes last month and the night sweats disappeared after a week. Unless I'm exhausted, I still have a hard time getting to sleep but I'm sleeping more soundly these days. No need for replacement hormones just yet.
The car shopping is done. There's nothing out there right now that is more attractive than what I have right now, to be honest. I decided that since I couldn't get EXACTLY what I wanted, I should hold on to the devil I know and, for once in my life, not borrow (or buy) trouble. I am strangely relieved by this decision.
I don't handle death well. What I mean is I freeze up when trying to help people who have experienced the loss of someone close to them. Like a lot of people I struggle with what to say. I want to let them know that I care and that their loved ones meant a lot to me -- if I knew the person, that is -- but I don't want to bring up the loved one for fear of making the survivor feel bad. Which, I suppose, is stupid because the person is already hurting and knows that the loved one is gone. My follow-through is lacking and I am ashamed of myself for that. I'm so sorry to the friends I've let down and drifted away from. I hate being that person. I suppose it's never too late to make overtures at repairing the cleft.
I don't want to leave this entry on such a self-indulgent point. Oh wait, it's LiveJournal; everything about this place is self-indulgent. Anyway, I have a couple of clothing issues:
Issue one: Oreo chewed through one of my nightgown straps yesterday. Thankfully, it was not on me at the time. I leave my nightgown on my pillow so I can find it in the dark after Hubbyfink goes to bed. Oreo finally noticed a string which needed chewing and I discovered a soggy, chewed up mess on my pillow. Thank goodness it wasn't the aftermath of a horking episode as I'd initially feared. Luckily, the nightgown came with a stupid bow that I'd snipped off and tied to make a headband so I have enough fabric to make a new strap.
Issue two: This may be the last public wearing of the jeans I currently have on. All that cycling to work in real clothes this past winter put a hurt on the seats and inner thighs of my jeans and this pair has gotten especially thin in a potentially scandalous area. Note to self: check those yoga capris I wear on long rides for similar wear and tear...
The car shopping is done. There's nothing out there right now that is more attractive than what I have right now, to be honest. I decided that since I couldn't get EXACTLY what I wanted, I should hold on to the devil I know and, for once in my life, not borrow (or buy) trouble. I am strangely relieved by this decision.
I don't handle death well. What I mean is I freeze up when trying to help people who have experienced the loss of someone close to them. Like a lot of people I struggle with what to say. I want to let them know that I care and that their loved ones meant a lot to me -- if I knew the person, that is -- but I don't want to bring up the loved one for fear of making the survivor feel bad. Which, I suppose, is stupid because the person is already hurting and knows that the loved one is gone. My follow-through is lacking and I am ashamed of myself for that. I'm so sorry to the friends I've let down and drifted away from. I hate being that person. I suppose it's never too late to make overtures at repairing the cleft.
I don't want to leave this entry on such a self-indulgent point. Oh wait, it's LiveJournal; everything about this place is self-indulgent. Anyway, I have a couple of clothing issues:
Issue one: Oreo chewed through one of my nightgown straps yesterday. Thankfully, it was not on me at the time. I leave my nightgown on my pillow so I can find it in the dark after Hubbyfink goes to bed. Oreo finally noticed a string which needed chewing and I discovered a soggy, chewed up mess on my pillow. Thank goodness it wasn't the aftermath of a horking episode as I'd initially feared. Luckily, the nightgown came with a stupid bow that I'd snipped off and tied to make a headband so I have enough fabric to make a new strap.
Issue two: This may be the last public wearing of the jeans I currently have on. All that cycling to work in real clothes this past winter put a hurt on the seats and inner thighs of my jeans and this pair has gotten especially thin in a potentially scandalous area. Note to self: check those yoga capris I wear on long rides for similar wear and tear...