Can’t sleep

Pain  Pain  Pain  Pain  Pain 
Pain  Pain  Pain  Pain  Pain
Pain  Pain  Pain  Pain  Pain
Pain  Pain  Pain  Pain  Pain
Pain  Pain  Pain  Pain  Pain
Pain  Pain  Pain  Pain  Pain
Pain  Pain  Pain  Pain  Pain
Pain  Pain  Pain  Pain  Pain
Pain  Pain  Pain  Pain  Pain
Pain  Pain  Pain  Pain  Pain
Pain  Pain  Pain  Pain  Pain
Pain  Pain  Pain  Pain  Pain

The more I write it… the more nonsensical it looks.
How come the more you experience it… the  more intolerable it becomes.

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Clutter-fuck.

What is it with shrinks and their dogs?   I went to a TrickCyclist today who works from the downstairs of her house and there was a huge smelly black labrador laying under her desk.  Not only was there a dog under her desk, but her ‘office’ and I use the term loosely seemed to double as a media room with a couch and big screen TV and also served purpose as  home gym with treadmill, exercise bike and weight bench too.  There were Schmackos on her desk and stuff piled on every available surface.  A rack of Yoga DVDs and home made art works hanging on the walls.  The whole room smelled like wet dog and there was knick knacks and ornaments all over the place.  There was so much to look at in the room that I found it hard to concentrate on what the TrickCyclist was saying.

If a messy desk is supposedly a sign of a creative mind then this woman must have been Pieter Breugel in a former life.  I’ve never seen so much junk ad clutter in one place.  There were piles of National Geographic in one corner, manilla folders full of various papers all stacked  high in another, two ceramic candelabra on a sideboard (one intact and one broken), old maps of Vietnam on the back of the door, a well used yellow pages holding up a broken coffee table leg, a couch that was covered in rugs that were covered in cat hair, a fish tank so grotty you couldn’t see the fish, old photos c1920ish in frames on the TV cabinet, a bookcase crammed full with psychology texts and yoga and relaxation books, turkish style rugs on the floor that were covered in stains and even when Digger the labrador got up and left from under the desk… the wet dog smell remained.

But in spite of all this clutter that made me feel dreadfully uncomfortable… the one thing that kept disturbingly drawing my eye and convinced me that there was something seriously ‘wrong’ with this woman was the copy of The Russian Ark that was on top of her DVD shelf. 

Why on earth would  ANYONE buy that movie?
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Saucer of milk to Azerbaijan?

I seem to be having way too many days filled with noisy children.  This coupled with the increasing difficulties I am having getting any decent sleep have made for a less than politic, less than diplomatic, less than tolerant and less than pleasant Borys these last few days.   I should offer apologies to those around me who’ve been dealing with this, but I am of the understanding that apologies do normally occur at the end of the offense and I can honestly say that I don’t see an end in sight for the foreseeable future.

No sleep = Fatigue
Fatigue = Less tolerance for pain.
Less tolerance for pain = Extremely irritable.
Extremely Irritable = Vituperative Borys

I need sleep bad and my drugs aren’t working. 
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So this is what it feels like.

I can’t believe it’s midway through April already.  What’s happened to the last few months, it feels like we were just having Christmas like a week ago… and I think I can safely say that the drugs aren’t helping in the whole ‘when, where, who, what?’ feeling I’ve been getting lately.  My back is ramping up again,  I think because I’m not sleeping so well.

A few weeks ago, the Valium was just knocking me out and I was finding it hard to get out of bed at 8.30-9.00am each morning, now it’s not even keeping me asleep through the pain and my back is waking me up around 6-6.30am and I’m not able to get back to sleep.  I think I must be getting used to them and I’m tempted to up my dose, but something tells me that this would be a slippery slope to start on.

URGH.  I am in so much pain I can hardly think straight and I’m soooo cranky, combative and pugilistic… someone need only poke me atm and I think I’d go RAH all over them  🙁 

No sleep = Unhappy Borys.

 
Bee count:
90 down … 64 to go.