Not so good.
Weird- a little more than a paragraph went missing from the last post. You didn't miss too much.
I'm still getting used to this new computer, and I am not a fan of the touchpad. It sucks. I blame anything that goes wrong on the touchpad.
Or UFOs.
This is embarrassing, but I'm going to say it anyway.
Sometimes, I walk in my sleep. My uncle does too, and they say these things run in families. To my knowledge, this is something that only happens once or twice a year. The last time I'm aware of happened at my last apartment, when I was living with Amanda. Around four in the morning, she and Chris were already awake, just avoiding getting up and moving. Then I came into her room, flipped her light switch on and off a few times, which didn't do a damn thing since the light had been turned off with the pull cord, went into the kitchen, "made some noise," and when I woke up, there were saucepans in my room that I couldn't explain on my own.
That's nothing.
The other night, I actually left my apartment. That scares the hell out of me. I don't know what happened, or where I went. But I woke up Friday half an hour late for work, and I couldn't find my glasses or cell phone. I was wearing a different shirt than when I went to bed, and the clothes I had been wearing Thursday night were wet and covered in sand. I was really confused and scared, trying not to freak out, so I went downstairs to smoke, get some air, and just take five minutes to call down in general. There's nothing I can't handle without five minutes. Then I found my phone on the table by the doorway, and my glasses out on the porch. Called the job, yes, I still had it, then called a cab. I was sore and freezing cold all day, and cracking way more inappropriate jokes than I usually do in the kitchen.
About an hour before I was cut, my leg started hurting like a bitch, like I hip-checked the hell out of something. I went to investigate, and found this crazy welt that looked like I took a baseball to it. It has since then developed into the scariest, biggest bruise I've seen on me since that time I flew off a jet ski and my entire ass wound up changing colors.
So I have to go to the doctor and get this figured out.
Murphy kept an eye on me and lent me some painkillers, but they aren't really working. I'm limping, everything hurts, and I haven't been able to get rid of this headache. I'm tired, but too nervous to fall asleep, in case I end up doing something stupid. I don't want to go out tonight, but I have to or something.
If this ends up being epilepsy, some one owes me an ice cream.
I'm still getting used to this new computer, and I am not a fan of the touchpad. It sucks. I blame anything that goes wrong on the touchpad.
Or UFOs.
This is embarrassing, but I'm going to say it anyway.
Sometimes, I walk in my sleep. My uncle does too, and they say these things run in families. To my knowledge, this is something that only happens once or twice a year. The last time I'm aware of happened at my last apartment, when I was living with Amanda. Around four in the morning, she and Chris were already awake, just avoiding getting up and moving. Then I came into her room, flipped her light switch on and off a few times, which didn't do a damn thing since the light had been turned off with the pull cord, went into the kitchen, "made some noise," and when I woke up, there were saucepans in my room that I couldn't explain on my own.
That's nothing.
The other night, I actually left my apartment. That scares the hell out of me. I don't know what happened, or where I went. But I woke up Friday half an hour late for work, and I couldn't find my glasses or cell phone. I was wearing a different shirt than when I went to bed, and the clothes I had been wearing Thursday night were wet and covered in sand. I was really confused and scared, trying not to freak out, so I went downstairs to smoke, get some air, and just take five minutes to call down in general. There's nothing I can't handle without five minutes. Then I found my phone on the table by the doorway, and my glasses out on the porch. Called the job, yes, I still had it, then called a cab. I was sore and freezing cold all day, and cracking way more inappropriate jokes than I usually do in the kitchen.
About an hour before I was cut, my leg started hurting like a bitch, like I hip-checked the hell out of something. I went to investigate, and found this crazy welt that looked like I took a baseball to it. It has since then developed into the scariest, biggest bruise I've seen on me since that time I flew off a jet ski and my entire ass wound up changing colors.
So I have to go to the doctor and get this figured out.
Murphy kept an eye on me and lent me some painkillers, but they aren't really working. I'm limping, everything hurts, and I haven't been able to get rid of this headache. I'm tired, but too nervous to fall asleep, in case I end up doing something stupid. I don't want to go out tonight, but I have to or something.
If this ends up being epilepsy, some one owes me an ice cream.