The Bitch is Back

Monday - I wish I could report that I had a lovely, fabulous birthday on Saturday, but the truth is that it rated among the worst birthdays of my life. I am, however, profoundly grateful to all of my friends and family who sent me birthday greetings via Facebook, Messenger, and email. You cannot imagine how much you all helped in dragging me out of the depths of Fibromyalgia Pain and Depression Hell.

I haven't done any cooking since Christmas Day because I haven't needed to. There is a ridiculous amount of cooked food in my fridge, an equally ridiculous amount of soups, cookies, and fried foods in the freezer, and even if the cupboard was bare, I could not stand long enough to fuss with food to do more than fry an egg. I feel bad, folks, that's "bad" with a capital "B", and I don't see it passing in the near future.

My eyes and my head hurt so bad I feel like they are going to explode. At some point I decided I had to get out of the house, and decided to do some shopping at Publix, except this Publix was practically in Polk County.  I drove past Celebration and realized yet again that it was one of the eeriest places  in the world (think Stepford Wives eerie) second only to Central Islip State Mental Hospital. It creeps me out to drive past either location. Traffic was ridiculous both ways, but I got out and about and that was fine for me, especially once I got past Celebration.

I ended up buying a dozen Jammie Dodgers and other things that I needed for my bean soup (more about that tomorrow.) But the traffic coming back was so ridiculous I wasn't sure any of those Jammie Dodgers were going to be left by the time I got home.

It's a strange day in Kissimmee. The sky is full of helicopters and the streets are full of emergency vehicles. The clouds are black and white, like a tuxedo cat.

The Social Security Administration has officially turned down my disability claim. I've known that was coming for over a week. I'll explain how I knew another time but let's just say the government is so stupid it makes my eyes hurt. I can't think about it too much because when I do, I feel such a profound anger rising up, I know that I may say such vicious things to certain people that no apology in the world could ever make things right again. That's not who I am, but it is who I can be. The bitch is back, damn it.  Let me stuff her back into the closet with my mother's mink coat.

Besides, that is why I have engaged an agency to assist me with the whole process, including what is now going to be an appeal. According to Social Security, I am capable of working as an attorney. Perhaps I should put them in touch with a certain judge.  Perhaps I should just release the Flying Monkeys.

Donald Trump has to go. I'm just sayin'.

The Magic won big against the New Orleans Pelicans. The BBC is finally broadcasting something other than Doctor Who. And the beans are in for the Big Soak.

Speaking of Doctor Who, I stopped into Hobby Lobby on Tuesday (today) on my way back from having my nails done.  As I was walking towards where I thought the yarn should be (it wasn't) I saw this, front and center:

I am not responsible for this display I promise you that. Apparently no one else recognized it, which struck me odd.  I had to take a picture, although it took me a while because people kept walking in front of it. I was beginning to think I was the only one who could see it.

Bad Wolf. This can't be good.