Month: March 2016

Limitations

I have limitations. I do not like them. I wish I could fix what hinders me, but I can not. They are both mental and physical. And you think the one I can touch would be the hardest, but its not. I accept my bi-polar, and my anxiety. I understand them, I respect my good and bad days. Its the physical I can’t deal with.

I have serve back issues. Laundry can floor me, climbing stairs. I have to pick something up as if its a heavy box, if I just lean over I strain my back. Which sends spasms down my spine. I have re injured my back to the point where I could not control my um bathroom needs. I think that’s a polite way to put it. Oh and I was in public. It was a horrifying experience and I’m grateful I have friends who don’t fear what may get on their car seats. Yay for mom friends. My injuries started when I was 19, And they have only gotten worse. These past 11 years I have tried desperately to appear as nothing is wrong with me. I mean for the first 4-5 years I was heavily addicted to opiates and the pain only flickered in like a candle flame.When it hit, I’d just shoot an extra bag, take an extra pill etc. Now I don’t have those things. There is nothing to take the pain away. And in those first years I did not take care of myself. Sleeping on park benches is not good for your back. And now I’m left with the damage I’ve induced upon myself.

I don’t qualify for surgeries, I currently don’t have a primary doctor, Which means its nearly impossible to get into some kind of pain treatment center, let alone physically therapy. Oh and no health insurance. I’m not trying to whine or obtain sympathy, I just feel weak. I was moping the kitchen floor just now, with a steam mop mind you. I moved 2 chairs in and out and a garbage can. I was almost in tears from the back pain after. I get really short and nasty when I am in pain, and I feel awful for those around me.

I just needed to get this off my chest before it becomes a more vicious feeling then it is.

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Read this…and then read it again. Dont understand, I emplore you to read it again…

I have been absent for a bit. Perhaps missed and perhaps not. It doesn’t matter. I have spent a long time delving into my self and attempting to find my way. There were two things I have read that stuck me deeply. This is the first one. And this is very muchly geared to my generation, those of us who are coming into their second ability to vote. and voting here in the United States has never meant so much,  it has never help so much. One may crush us to nothing, one may loose sight of what when that power takes holds, and one may use it to feed their hunger. And I must say…I am afraid. so fucking afraid. my generation has lost hope. So please read this, top to bottom and then bottom to top. And as you mull this over I want you to read these lyrics from Saul Williams. And perhaps this will help you to stop and review your choice. See a new perspective. I am not here to tell you who to vote for, I am simply asking you to really look st the person you wish to vote for, or if your not sure, perhaps this may make you take a different look. So let us start. And i will slip this as well to show my own choice. and i encourage responses. Be polite, be adults. Discuss with me. this is the now.

Here is a satire but Otep on Donald Trump: (satire piece)

You wake up with a gun in your hand. A knife at your throat. A wound in your side.
The room is on fire and the roof is caving in.
You can’t move.
In the distance, there’s the sound of screaming.

Thus begins the sixteenth term of our Lord and Ruler, Sovereign of the Cosmos, Grand Vizier of the New Yuuuge Great-Again States, Exalted Commander of the Orange Shirts & Supreme Leader of all 52 branches of the New Yuuuge Great-Again Military, Builder of the Greater Wall, Keeper of the Law, Purger of the Land, King Scientist of All Sciences, The All-Seeing, All-Knowing, most incredible, amazing, Winningest Leader of All Time (you won’t even believe it) his Holiness… Immortan Don.

We praise his yuuugeness (yuuuugest ever) with every shallow breath we take for losing the wretched territories to the west. Death be upon them. For it is HE, Immortan Don, who saved us from them! Them, with their treachery of democracy. Them, with their evil idolatry of the sun, and wind, and water and the land. Them, with their false prophets who speak with curses on their tongue about equality for all and individual rights.

We praise Immortan Don for the Great War of Nation-States that saw our first, second, and third Great Walls destroyed by traitors and betrayers who fled our great republic to join the evil empire of the West. We praise Immortan Don for banishing them to the feral lands where forests are thick with life, scary life, uncontrollable life, where the oceans are terrifyingly blue, where the soil is rich and dark, and the wind remains invisible.

He has condemned the wicked Wretched West, beyond our fourth and final Greater Wall, to live every day of their wretched lives without ever witnessing the daily prayer briefings that our glorious Immortan Don beams from his ivory tower into every home, into every building, inside every room, on the streets, on the trains, everywhere, seriously, he is everywhere. All the time.

Nay, we thank Immortan Don (who is so yuuuuuge you won’t even believe it) for the sooty air, for the yellow sky, for the rusty oceans, for the barren hills. We thank Him for protecting us so we’d never be slaves under the iron heel of “common” sense. Nay, Immortan Don (who is so yuuuuuge) blesses us with uncommon sense, the rarest sense, a sense so amazing you won’t even believe it, a sense only HE can provide. For the Great Roundup of Year 3 where He purged our republic of any mutations, for creating a monochromatic citizenry that has eliminated the terrors of diversity.

We thank Immortan Don, yuuugest of the yuge, for keeping us safe from the perils of free will. “I know something about will and it isn’t free,” he says. And rightfully so. For it was HE, Immortan Don, (seriously, he’s just so terrific and amazing, you won’t even believe it) who WILLED our WILL into existence and loaned it to us with a meager 25% interest rate.

Indeed, we owe him everything. For it is HE, Immortan Don, (who gets standing ovations, seriously, people love him) that allows us to manufacture all our goods, anything and everything we need (deemed necessary by his Holiness) in the Great Corporation. His enemies, those liars and criminals, will say the Great Corporation TAKES from us but this is false. The Great Corporation GIVES to us because it was created FOR us by HIM. And thus we are paid in corporate credits that can only be used in the corporate stores of the Great Corporation and thus we can only live in housing owned by the Great Corporation, buy goods made by the Great Corporation. It’s great. It’s terrific. Not to mention how fantastic it is that WE pay HIM, Immortan Don, (seriously, he wins at everything) for the blessing of sacrificing our labor, 18 hours a day at the Great Corporation, even though we, the happy, healthy elated children of the New Yuuuge Great-Again States (trademark Immortan Don all rights reserved), would eagerly work 36 hours a day and 17 days a week if only given the chance. We also thank His Holiness, Immortan Don, for creating a smarter, more talented calendar built around a 39 hour day and 164 weeks a year. Because math is for suckers. Oh, he’s just so terrific.

We praise Immortan Don (just the smartest and brightest, I mean, seriously, manliest man ever, you wouldn’t believe it) for keeping the horrors of space hidden in the awesome, sterilizing smog belched from the iron towers of the Great Corporation (registered trademark Immortan Don, he’s so terrific). We praise Him for the healthy holy fluorescent lights that constantly illuminate our great republic, for the rusty water that springs forth from the belly of the Great Corporation, for keeping our air visibly gray so we remain grateful for every breath we take. For the Orange Shirts (His chosen private security) for keeping the bread lines orderly. We praise Him for our two, and only two, National Hospitals that do it better without competition. We praise Him for the decades of war he’s initiated because “fuck them” that’s why. For making pregnancy mandatory so every child can proudly serve in one of the 52 branches of our supremely invincible Military and work off their parents debts. We honor Him for rewriting every religious text so that it begins with his immaculate birth out of the side of his own ass. It is also our great honor for his selfless service to Medicine by personally selecting and providing monthly pelvic exams to some of our young women. How yuuuugely lucky they are, the chosen ones, may we see them again someday.

We thank Him, Immortan Don, (seriously more yuuuuge than you could possibly ever imagine) for relieving us from vaccines so that we can spot the weaker ones quicker. We praise Him for his daring vacations into the exotic wilds of the Wretched West every holiday and during our bleak winters so He can remind us just how terrible it is over there, where the liars and criminals grow soft and fat and stupid for believing that health is wealth.

And we thank Him, Immortan Don, (he’s just done an amazing job, seriously, you won’t even believe it) for making everything, and we mean everything, so great again, for being a winner and for helping US to keep on winning. We thank Him for removing doubt, for challenging us with double-talk and divine confusion. For reminding us who our enemies are, the Wretched THEM (wherever THEY may lurk), for assaulting our unnatural sense of decency and dignity because He knows better than anyone because He says so. We thank Him for being so yuuuge we cant even believe it, for his eloquent declarations that he does more before breakfast than most of us will do in a lifetime. We thank Him, endlessly, for telling us what’s true and what’s not. We thank Immortan Don for liberating our fears and nightmares into reality so we don’t have to endure them alone.

We wake up with a fright. A choice to be made. A moment to seize. A future to build.
The room is smoldering. The roof is bowing.
Do you move or lay still?
In the distance, there’s the sound of cheering.

Still here, thank you…this read forward feel small build yourself up and read it bottom to top. And feel helpful, and must of all hopefull.

lost gen

 

And now I end this with Saul Williams. Ignore color. Please just see people as people.

Are you afraid to have someone believe in you?
Can you commit to your ideals?
Even if you think nothing of it
Are you willing to allow others to think the world of it
And of you?
Pedagogue of Young Gods

All slavery ever does is free you
All anyone ever does is an example
All power is just collective energy
To abuse the privilege is to sell your soul
And that is to rent with the illusion of owning

We are the landlords
If you misunderstand us
You’re dead and deserve your demise
Your dominion is your overthrow
The controllers are controlled
Spread the word, it will save you
And depends on you to be understood

There is no school bell, only nursery
Our heroes reward us with stars
Ever-still, ever-moving
We sing to ourselves in our cars
Music is our sanctuary
Anywhere you put it it’s ours
Our living voice, our living testament
We dream aloud, we scream and shout

Our courage will defeat them
Our struggle will unite us
Our wisdom is ourselves, our resources our own
Our blood ocean, our skin oil
We are mountain and waterfall
They cannot contain us
Their prisons will not restrain us
Their customs will not un-name us
We are what they know in their hearts
You guessed it, you knew that
You felt it, you tried to doubt it
Denied it, but you knew it
Ain’t nobody had to tell you
We had them from the start

A world apart, a world within
Ancient and luminous
The before before and the hereafter
We are the essence of laughter
The comforting prayer and the gatekeepers
And the street-sweepers
A mountain of ports outside of a city of dreams
A bird that prays, yet offers its wingspan to the wind
Things are not as they seem
We hover above while giving the appearance of scurrying below

All is as it should be
We are more than we know
More than we hoped and dreamed
A generation of generators
A power source and supply

The better we learn to live
The better we learn to die
Old as anything, old as everything
We are participants in a ritual
Older than our collective memory
A marriage of heart and mind
Secular and divine

All is as it should be
Slavery carefully bred us
No child of Greece or Rome can behead us
We are ahead of our time
Slavery was simply a state of mind
Hip-hop reminded us of confidence
Overcoming now is simply common sense

You deserve the ice and the riches of Solomon
But don’t let warped values turn you into hollow men
Education is the only thing given that cannot be taken
Learn to think for yourself, analyze the forsaken

Pimp your fears, surrender to love
Dance all night when you need to
Play this song for a thug, let ’em know ain’t no judgment
We all hustle and grind
Any system against us is against the divine
But there’s no sense of glory in repenting
And repeating their mistakes
You have a greater calling
Answering it is all it takes
Take a second to hear this and go back about your day
Know that laws don’t govern us, we’re governed by what we say
What we think, why we think it, how we handle
Place no blame, point no fingers, take your aim

Shoot to kill
The bullshit

 

 

Thank you.

 

 

Enter Inspirational Title Here

I haven’t wanted to write much. All though I have so much to say, yet I am empty.

I spent less then 10 minutes at Sean’s memorial. I could not be around all the drinking and assumable drugs there. Also I know there is bitterness between myself and others. Drugs make us into monsters, and monsters do terrible things.

I remember my monster very well. I don’t know if its possible to forget her. Even if I tried. She looks back at me in the mirror, shes stalks my dreams. There will always be the knowing of what I have the capability to become. I will always have my demons. I can run from, that part of my life as much as I want, but something will always bring me back and remind me. It’s always the death of a friend, an acquaintance, or a child of a friend. Death always pulls people back. There are too many people who read this that I can not go into great detail of how I am feeling today. But I will be ok, I have so many people who love me despite of myself.

This quote keeps popping up in my mind, and I know its true, because I have.

love.jpg

I don’t think I can write anymore today. I think I will just make some tea and end my night. Its been a painful day of memories I did not want to remember. My heart feels a little more black today…

I’m speachless

Another friend died today from drugs. I am in awe, and I am heartbroken. Im just gonna leave this post from my facebook here caz I dont know what else to do….May you find some kinda of comfort now that this is over. With all my love, Sean. I will miss you.

 

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I know I will regret this I’m sure but I need to say it before I respond to someones post and lose my shit. Forewarn, this is a rant.

I have been seeing a ton of posts lately about heroin and addiction and I have to say something. I am aware how insane this is right now. If you asked me 8 years ago if this is how I thought things would be I would have laughed saying “there’s no way heroin would get this popular and cause such havoc”. Seriously, shit was hard to come by when I was using. Or perhaps so it seemed, but it was never easy to score a hit. It is an epidemic, and its horrifying. The amount of people that have passed away in the last 2 weeks to an overdose is probably one of the most unsettling things I have seen in a really long time. But this blame the addict and talk shit about people with addiction has to stop. If you have friends that are using, try and get them help. Please do not just shame someone because they have an addiction problem. Please do not assume you know what its like. I want to smack the people who claim they had a little problem in high school but are fine now and cant understand why so and so isn’t. Because you are not that person. You have no fucking idea what it is like to be that person. Who do not know how they feel, you do not know what their life is like. Do not place judgment or claim “to know” if you don’t. I lost years of my life to my addiction. And though I have been clean for as long as I have it is something I still have to deal with daily. Just because I haven’t put a needle in my arm in 8 years doesn’t mean my addiction issues are gone. I still eat too much, or smoke too much. My addiction effects all areas of my life. It effects every decision I make.
Look I’m not asking anyone to ignore the issue at hand. The issue is that there is a drug problem of absurd proportion in this area. We need to help people not hinder them. And it is not easy to get help. The amount of red tape you go throw to get into a rehab or a detox is insane. And that’s part of it, but people need help after the drugs are gone. Relapse is a part of my story, if you are friends with me you know my story and I don’t need to repeat to you here now. But getting the after help was harder then getting off the drugs. There is shame and despair that can be so crippling after the drugs are gone. And for me it was worse then what I felt when I was using, and it was bad then. No one knows what it was lie for me, because no one is me. People who have an idea, is because I shared with them. I went to meetings with people who thought like I did, who knew the things I went through, because at some point, so did they. Please like go of the stigma: once a junkie always a junkie. Its bullshit. Complete bullshit. Have some compassion, show someone some love, and accept that people will stop when they are ready…not you.
End of my rant. To anyone who is offended, too bad. And to my friends who work as EMTs, my friends who are nurses, I love you all. I know your job is hard, and emotionally taxing. But I thank you, because for every 10 addicts you deal with one will make a change. I was that one, thank you for the love and hope you bestowed upon me when I did not deserve it. To those who are using, please reach out for help. Life is better on this side of the fence I promise. The work is hard, and painfully but the gifts that will come are amazing.

Ramblings of the sleepless…

There are so many things you learn/realize or simply acknowledge after so many hours of being awake. I’ve been awake just shy of 24 hours. This isn’t something I have had to deal with in a bit. I do take sleeping pills; insomnia has stalked me since I was a teenager. Only now as a adult, and as a drug free adult I should say, do I trust myself with such a responsibility to my recovery of addiction that I take something as such. Both my anxiety and sleeping medications are controlled substances. And I do have the ability to get high off of. Truth be told I abused Ambien and benzodiazepines in my addiction. And now I take them as I should as an adult. I take 10mg of Ambien a night, and I take 4mg of Ativan a day. I say this all to properly explain my mind set as I describe my evening of amusement, and questioning. I am not a functioning human with out my anxiety medication. I have been out for 3 days. I did not have $97 to obtain them since I lack insurance at this time. I finally broke down and asked my mother to help me. It made me feel so small. Though she was glad she could help me. My parents are wonderful. And by the time I realized the time I felt it far to late to take a sleeping pill. I must guarantee I can obtain 8 hours of sleep. Or I will nod out all day. Ok sorry I’m starting to get out of order and ramble. 24 hours of no sleep or anxiety constantly rising I’m very out of sorts. But still I digress. Let me get this back on track.

Lacking sleep anxiety pulling me under like an undertow this is what I have seen. My cats. They are furry little assholes to each other at 2, 4,and 7 am. Cat fights are not an enjoyable thing to break up no matter how much fucking sleep you’ve had. We are introducing a new cat to the brood and it’s not going well.  TV can be addicting. I actually blasted through 2 seasons of Broadchurch on Netflix. I smoke WAY too much. I’m anxious I smoke. My voice is so shot right now. The setting I am in is a dirt floor basement with a hand built desk. A single florescent light. My laptop is down here as this is the only place in my house I can smoke.

basmentfuntimesJesus I look a mess.

So As the silly things start to pan away as sleep continues to evade me, I start to think about my life. I am a month shy of 30, I live with my parents. (more complicated then I just cant take care of myself on my own, although that is a big part of it) I’m tattooed as I had a what I thought was a secure job and could indulge in such pleasures as decorating my body, septum pierced, ears gauged to a 1/2inch. I am fouled mouth, My daddy very muchly helped me to obtain out swear a sailor achievement by 15. to the discontentment of my mother. But I am a daddy’s girl. I am inappropriate, I make very dark humored jokes. I can seriously unnerve people. I am not professional. I know this. Yesterday I got a call back about a job. Its an administrative job…professional. Fuck me. How do I keep my mouth shut, how do I stop myself from honestly being an asshole when I open my mouth. I have been told on more then one occasion that I am a cold, abrasive and black hearted person. I’m jaded, I know it. I have experienced things in my addiction that have shaped me the way I am today. Next month will be a solid 8 years clean. I do indulge in an occasional glass of wine from time to time. I never get drunk or tipsy, I watch what time I am drinking compared to taking my medications. I never ever take a sleeping pill if I have had ANYTHING to drink that day. But its 8 solid years from stabbing myself with a needle multiple times a day to simply survive. I have left that life. I thought I was living now. But lately it feels more like surviving. I am fucked up still and now I am about to take on an entirely different admin role then my last job that was so laid back and i could go to work in a t-shirt with I dunno with a superhero shirt and a pair of old jeans and be fine.

Now is professional dress. I own nothing like that. I know this has seriously become a ramble but I have said before my thought process is a freight train as fast as it comes it can be pushed out by something new right away. I want to thank anyone who has made it this far. Thank you for reading, and listening. Sometimes I just need to know someone is listening to me. I am scared about this job. I am scared I will fuck it up like my last job…Because it was my own incompetence that lead to my being fired. I knew it was going to come when I did not get a raise that year, and everyone else got really good raises as the pot did not have to be split so many ways for our department. I’m also going from $12.20/hr at 40 hours a week. to $9/hr at 20 hours a week. And I know I am worth so much more then that. But I really have no other options to me right now. So I’m now going to prep up a shower mop my horrid kitchen floor and go to sleep. I have my back-round and drug test tomorrow. I need to be on top of my game. I know I can do this. Is what my mantra has been all day.

Thank you for taking the time to read these posts. It means the world to me when someone comments or just likes it. Thank you.

-Kitty >^.^<

A bit more serious

So I’m sitting here and there is this black wave lapping at my heels. A good friend of mine both read Prozac Nation together in high school. And that was a line that has followed us some 16 years. Elizabeth Wurtzel defined her mental illness as a black wave always lapping at her ankles. And so have we.

She is a back wave, her presence is female to me. She licks seductively at my heels, and I ignore her. Then she moves to my ankles and I find comfort in her. As the wave rises she is less seductive and more motherly. Wrapping her arms around me and then it changes. So so quickly. Her grasp is tight, and cold so so cold. Its numbing cold. I cant break her grasp my body has become so numb. She has barbs that pierce my skin. I am bound. Then the lies began to spew from her sea salted mouth. “you are nothing” “A waste of space” “no one really likes you, they pity you” “They are embarrassed by and for you” “Why don’t you just die” “you life never has and never will have any meaning” “You are a disgrace” “If you wont die, just pick up the needle.” “at least when your high you don’t feel” “And numb is a great way to be”

**NO I AM NOT GOING TO GET HIGH OR KILL MYSELF**

I have to say, I’m no at that point but writing down all the lies that sea monster tells me make it so difficult to keep typing. I talk about it before it becomes a concrete thought. When the tongue of addiction licks my face I make a phone call to someone who is clean and working a program of recovery. And when its the sea monster getting ready to drown me, I call my shrink. I do not allow myself to be alone in these times. For these are the time I am the weakest. These creatures find their way in easiest when I feel lonely, or weak. When I’m not working, or have hit a creative block of some kind. When I question myself. The demons get in.

https://img.washingtonpost.com/rw/2010-2019/WashingtonPost/2015/09/18/BookWorld/Images/FuriouslyHappyCover.jpg

So I read a book not too long ago called Furiously Happy by Jenny Lawson. And it pulled me out of a seriously dark fucking place I decided might be alright for me to play in. It wasn’t. I’m going to post an excerpt from her book to end this post. Because this is really how I am feeling right now. And I am going to be ok. Also check out her blog. Because she is funny and truthful and I love her though I have never met her.

http://thebloggess.com/

read it read read it!!!!

‘Sometimes being crazy is a demon. And sometimes the demon is me. And I visit quiet sidewalks and loud parties and dark movies, and a small demon looks out at the world with me. Sometimes it sleeps. Sometimes it plays. Sometimes it laughs with me. Sometimes it tries to kill me. But it’s always with me. I suppose we’re all possessed in some way. Some of us with dependence on pills or wine. Others through sex or gambling. Some of us through self-destruction or anger or fear. And some of us just carry around our tiny demon as he wreaks havoc in our mind, tearing open old dusty trunks of bad memories and leaving the remnants spread everywhere. Wearing the skins of people we’ve hurt. Wearing the skins of people we’ve loved. And sometimes, when it’s worst, wearing our skins. These times are the hardest. When you can see yourself confined to your bed because you have no strength or will to leave. When you find yourself yelling at someone you love because they want to help but can’t. When you wake up in a gutter after trying to drink or smoke or dance away the ache—or the lack thereof. Those times when you are more demon than you are you. I don’t always believe in God. But I believe in demons. My psychiatrist always says, “But if you believe there are demons, then it follows that there could be a God. It’s like … believing in dwarves but not in Cyclopes.” I consider pointing out that I’ve met several dwarves in my life and almost no Cyclopes, but I get what she’s saying. There can’t be dark without light. There can’t be a devil without the God who created him. There can’t be good without bad. And there can’t be me without my demon. I think I’m okay with that. Or maybe it’s my demon that is. It’s hard to tell. My psychiatrist told me that when things get rough I should consider my battle with mental illness as if I were “exorcising a demon” and I was like, “Well, no wonder I’m failing so miserably. I’m shit at exercising.” Then she called me out for deflecting with humor, and explained: “You are exorcising a demon. It’s not something you can do alone. Some people do it with a priest and holy water. Some do it with faith. Some do it with chemicals and therapy. No matter what, it’s hard.” “And usually people end up with vomit on them,” I replied. I’m seeing more of a connection. I wonder if I’m the priest in this scenario. I hope not because he almost always dies just when he thinks everything is fine. This analogy is starting to creep me out.’

-Jenny Lawson

 

 

 

All the things

So as I try and find something to do with my time, since I can clean house pretty quickly. (I mean it’s not clean, I could do it quickly, I’m just lazy. Honesty.) I find myself baking, and cooking.

I’m not terrible at either of those things. I just don’t always like to do them. I am a creature of habit. And even after 8 years clean I still want what I want when I want it. Which is now. Gimme…Like I don’t want to do all the work involved and wait the 65min plus cooling time to eat banana bread. I want it now on a nice plate with some butter. But I have yet to obtain the magic to do that, so I made banana bread. I’m covered in flour because I am a very messy person when I cook. I need to shower.

Still waiting on obtaining the money for unemployment. I first filed on February 10th. Its the 2nd of March, come on New York state I have bills to pay and my bank account is not happy. I have also run out of health insurance at this time. So my medications are about to get stupid expensive. My depression medication is $50/month. And my anxiety medication is $100 for a 3 month supply. Its a controlled substance so getting it monthly is a pain in the ass. So I would rather pay out $100 now, then a little each month and fight to have them. Sometimes just having them can be calming.

Oh by the way, this is how my mind jumps. All the time. It is hard for me to stay on topic unless I am in direct conversation with someone, and even then it can be a challenge. My thought process is a freight train that does not like to wait for anything. Its a blessing and a curse…mostly a curse.

I am now tired. I have done nothing but a load of laundry and vacuumed. Oh and banana bread. The banana bread is what did it. Who knew banana bread could be so exhausting. Tomorrow I plan to bake some regular bread. My sister gave me a great recipe to make it without a bread machine. Hopefully this time, I do not burn myself or brake a glass dish. Ceramic dishes SHATTER when they are 400 degrees and you drop them. The skin on your hands is also not happy after touching it either. I can not cook without obtaining some kind of injury. I will likely burn myself when I get the bread out of the oven.

How I have lived this long and not lost a limb is a miracle. I think I will make some tea and finish the laundry. Maybe….