Less loaded

There are many things you shouldn’t do when you’ve consumed any sizable amount of pain killers. Writing emails is chief among them. I read through my sent items this morning and had a chuckle at the things I had said (and more often, how I’d said them) until I read one that made me gasp.

I remember writing it. I remember sending it. I remember it making sense at the time. There was even a follow up apologising for it (which I also remember writing) that, in the cold light of sobriety, doesn’t seem all that conciliatory. To that person I apologise unreservedly.

The others were funny; not only for the typing, a sample of which you can see in my previous post, but also in what was said. I asked a friend for their home number so that I wouldn’t have to pay postage on calling a mobile. I sent a semi-veiled rant to U2 about Sister, in reply to an email he had sent me.

But anyway I am feeling better today. The pain in my back seems to have taken the message and fucked off, although I seem to have “the jolts” from what I can only imagine to be the physical withdrawals from Zoloft. Usually I get them from taking too much anti-inflammatory meds but today I haven’t had any it. It feels like there’s a slight current of electricity below my skin, buzzing along, and then jolting me every time my foot falls as I walk.

But things seem to be looking up—touch wood—and there’s less than a week until Christmas. This time on Monday afternoon we’ll be leaving to Grandma’s place for Christmas. Yay!

Image pinched from Real Euphoria.