Listening to: “Every Morning” by Sugar Ray

 I've been reading my 2024 journal lately and thinking I really need to write more often. I wrote nearly every day that year, though sometimes despite not really having anything to write about. Either I’ve been busier just lately, or I’m not as motivated. I don’t know.

 Anyway. Writing in the album-cover notebooks now, after which I plan to cover the scribbles with scrapbooky stuff. We’ll see how that idea goes. I just like the idea of the two mashed together.

 I was talking the other day (or week) about higher prices for my prescriptions. That was before I found out that my 30-day supply of Jardiance is now going to cost just over $300 – which is a 1000% increase from last year. I don’t know if it’s going to be this bad all year but it is mind-blowing. Thankfully, weirdly, the other two I had to refill this week are the same as they were last year. 90 days of Losartan for a little over $10; 90 days of Atorvastatin for no cost. Why is the one I have to pay for monthly 1000% more?!? Okay, yeah, I suppose I know the answer to that question already. It’s also one of the two or three medications that I absolutely can’t quit taking, of course.

 Speaking of things medical, which I so often seem to do, I’ve had two bad nights in a row. Wednesday night I was woken up around one AM by a stinging, pulsating pain in my left foot. I have several scratches on both feet courtesy of a certain black cat, and this felt like somebody was pressing on the freshest one every few minutes. And it was like a mini electric shock, in that every time a pain-pulse hit, my whole leg would jerk involuntarily. I had to get up to use the bathroom anyway, so I tried antiseptic spray on the scratches; I tried putting a band-aid on it; I tried taking a Tylenol. Nothing helped. I was awake for hours with this.

 Finally got back to sleep, probably between 3 and 4. And ended up in one of my very busy dreams. There was a lot to it, but I could only clearly remember a little of it when I woke up again at 5. And it was the worst parts too. It was one of those where I sort of went back and forth between being in it and observing from a distance. What I remember is a man who went nuts when he found out his younger child, a baby boy, wasn’t actually his son. There was a scene of him dangling a puppy by a leash while he kicked it. (Apparently the puppy’s name was Charlie because I, observing, was repeatedly sobbing, “No, Charlie! Charlie! Nooo!”)

 The next/other part I remember was a scene in a graveyard. There was a voice-over talking about the graves there, one of which was the puppy’s. The other, even more horribly, was the baby boy’s, represented by a baby in a carrier basket; I'm not sure if it was the actual baby’s body or a statue. And the man’s older child, a little girl about four or five, was lying on the ground next to it. Her face looked like she’d been hit or scratched around her nose and mouth, and she was looking up at her mother standing over her and saying something like, “Just leave me here. It’ll be quicker.” (Or “easier”? I couldn’t remember exactly after I woke up.)

 I. Just.

 And after processing what the hell my brain had just done to me, I thought, “Those would make good bits for stories.” After which I thought, “Jesus no; you can’t write that! People will think you’re mentally ill!” Yeah, I know; people have written worse stuff. But still.

 So I was very tired and sleepy yesterday after all that, enough so that when I went to bed last night I decided to skip reading. (I also skipped Tuesday night; I’d been feeling dizzy and nauseated in the afternoon for no obvious reason and just wanted extra sleep.) And I ended up waking up at almost exactly the same time again, for the same reason. The pain wasn't quite as bad, so I managed to get back to sleep a lot faster (helped along by two Tylenol). Being dead tired also seemed to help. I’m not looking forward to tonight though.

 As part of my journal reading I was also reading my Christmas blog series from 2024. Some of it was actually pretty good, though it didn't sound entirely like my usual writing voice. I don’t know if that was a good thing or a bad thing, since as far as I know, nobody ever read any of it.

 Oh I did some recycling work the other day. I turned out two bracelets, a bookmark and a pin from a necklace and two pairs of earrings. Not bad. There were a couple of other things I basically just salvaged instead of recycling; they’ll get turned into other stuff eventually. Just haven’t really felt motivated to make new things lately when the “old” things aren’t selling. And I don’t know how to change that either.

 I should actually be cleaning the basement bathroom this afternoon but I couldn’t really get motivated to do that either. It’s been brutally cold for days now and I think it’s depressing my brain. Or suppressing it. Or both. Plus I have to go and have labs done today for my appointment with Dr. T. next week, and I don’t know when exactly I’ll be going. I didn’t want to have to interrupt cleaning for that. Although I probably could have done it in the time I’ve been sitting here waiting and scribbling. Of course.

Listening to: “Boppin’ the Rock” by Clifton Chenier (was listening to an episode of Sidedoor about him earlier today so I added him to my current Pandora station. They actually mentioned this tune in the podcast.)

Finished: A Bed of Spices by Barbara Samuel. 4 stars; book #5 for this year. Another page-turner of historical fiction. However, I’d really like to know the name of the river that some formatting error rendered as “the 111” throughout the book.

Watched: The Rookie