Tick tock tick tock

I’m not altogether sure why I’m still writing on Sobrietyland except for the blissful freedom I feel to just say what I want. Hell Damn Fart! However, I must admit that I miss having regular readers and the social companionship and camaraderie that had developed over the years (such that it was). To that end, I’ll start using tags more frequently, but don’t expect me to start censoring myself. This is a warts-and-all blog. You’ll hate me. You’ll disagree with me. You’ll… well… you’ll probably choose to continue to ignore me. And that’s fine too.

I just called in a refill for my Vicodin — I always believe that it won’t get refilled, but this doctor seems to be pretty free with the meds, so I’m not terribly worried. If I do get cut off, I have enough backup supply to taper down over the next week. Then it’s back to Sobrietyland, constant pain, and all-too-clear headed thinking. It’s inevitable.

I’m counting down the hour until I can leave for the weekend. Not that I have any plans—I never have any plans anymore since I got fat again—but the sheer freedom that I can just sit on my bottom and watch telly in my knickers feels so damn good!

I plan to stop by Wallyworld on my way home to pick up Season 3 of House. Hugh Laurie is the greatest actor ever, and House is the greatest character ever written. Hyperbole? Perhaps. But don’t kill my Vicodin buzz—I love this guy. In fact, I love this show so much, I’m terrified that the fourth season is going to be awful. That always seems to happen to me. Just as soon as I really get into something, the powers-that-be come along and wreck it. The ending of Season 3 left half the cast on the chopping block; the rumors of their eventual return sound insipid. Bad mojo for a series I’ve grown to love (perhaps too much).

Sounds a lot like most of my relationships. The minute I get attached and start relying on them is the minute they let me down. M for instance. My warm fuzzy feelings from yesterday were rekindled this morning when he called, seemingly out of the blue, just to give me an update. It makes me miss him more, which is bad news for my mood, already shaky from hormone fluctuations, being on the brink of financial Armageddon, and vicodin tapering.

Thank God I still have coffee. That hasn’t been taken away from me… yet.