The good, the bad and the scary

The good:

  • I had to go to the doctor yesterday morning to get a new prescription, as, like I think I have mentioned before, my shrink has gone AWOL. The new GP I’d seen once or twice before wasn’t available, so I had to see another female doctor at the practice, because there’s no way I’m going to see the male doctor there again, after his “Oh, do you think you’re depressed because you have low self esteem because you’re fat?” performance. Anyways, the fear of having to go through my entire history of depression again kept me up most of the night, but as it turns out, she just wanted some clarifications, and to give me a smear, which I pointed out I’d actually had done in May. She gave me a three month script for the lexapro! And ticked the “okay to represcribe without an appointment” box for the next time! I don’t have to schlep around begging for drugs for at least six months! Do you have any fricking idea what a relief that is? Hurrah!
  • In other brief moments of awesome, a job that I really want was advertised on one of the twitterstreams that I follow, so I promptly applied for it. Hurrah for social media!

The bad:

  • I was at my parents’ house yesterday hanging out with Pixie and doing my laundry. When I left, carrying two baskets of laundry stacked on top of each other, my satchel and a bag of shopping, she came around to the front door and was darting around, so I was wondering if she wanted to get back in. My parents have recently extended the front of their house, and changed the levels of steps, and put new ones in. Their outside light didn’t go on automatically. You can see where this is going, right? A misstep, my ankle twists, my baskets of laundry go flying, groceries roll down their hill, I have time to think “I’m falling” before my hands hit the speckled pebbled ground, my right thigh and right side of my body make contact with the concrete too, my shoulders jar, my wrists scream in protest and I want to stay on the ground and bawl, but I don’t want to freak the neighbours out, so I have to gingerly pick myself up and then pick up all my crap that has gone everywhere. I am covered in invisible boo-boos now and want kisses to make them better.

The scary:

  • I was lying in bed at around 1.40am when I heard someone coming up the path. At first I thought it was our steps, but then I realised it was the path of the house next door, which I thought was a little odd, because they’re not normally late night people. But Smoo was home anyway, so it wouldn’t have been our path anyway. I didn’t hear next door’s front door, but I thought maybe they were just super quiet. Then I heard some thrashing around in the bushes by my window that I’d left open for Sebastian and I was like “oh crap, he’s chasing a rat, he’s not normally that loud”. And then I thought I heard someone whispering my name, so I sat up and saw a figure silhouetted against my blinds, with an arm reaching in, and I was very confused. I said “What the hell are you doing?” and the figure seemed to disappear. I reached for my light, not entirely sure if I’d just seen what I’d seen, and then reached for my phone and tweeted about it (yes, lame, I know) before wrapping my duvet around myself, getting out of bed and going for the main light in my room. I pulled up my blinds, and saw that the window that was open but latched was now unlatched. I shut it, dropped the blinds and went and got Smoo, who was luckily awake. We had a prowl around the house, and he looked out the front door, but we couldn’t see anything, so I called Sebastian in, and he snuggled me to keep me safe. Took me another hour to get to sleep though, and yes, I spent some of that time debating who out of the four or so people that I’ve shared a bed with this year would have been the best to respond if someone had actually climbed in. I think it would have been the girl first, because she can be scary and intense, and then the married man, because maybe he could have been manly but would be afraid of  being identified. Then the duck, because he  might have slept through it, then Tingle, who probably would have just been too drunk . I suppose I should call the community constable now or something and report it, in case there’s a pattern happening around town. Weeiiiiiiiiird.

One response to “The good, the bad and the scary”

  1. […] sent him a drunken email on Wednesday night asking him to tell Tingle to call me and that actually it wasn’t Tingle who tried to climb in my window. Naturally because Bambi is smart, he saw the 2am timestamp on the email and decided to wait until […]

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