Sugary

six barrel soda syrups

Today was all go go go. I went to the doctor’s first thing to tell her I’d given up drinking and to ask her for the barrage of blood tests my trainer and my psychologist want, and also for a general health check. As per usual, my blood pressure was perfect, and she reminded me that I’d had a bunch of tests earlier in the year when I continued to be exhausted after my gall bladder came out in which all my functions were good, but totally understood why I wanted to doublecheck my results anyway. I might have fucked my mind but at least I haven’t fucked my liver, so that’s something.

I went to Kilbirnie for blood tests and to the supermarket, then to Newtown to pick up Sara who was spending the day with me. We went to a bunch of places to look for fabric for the last two Boom items for season four. I wanted to get some more of a particular tiger print because it’s a one-way print which means we won’t get a particularly efficient cut out of it, but they didn’t have any more of it. Instead I found an amaaaaaaaaaazing print that’s going to be blouses. No spoilers but I’ll tell you a joke:

What’s the difference between an alligator and a crocodile?
One will see you later, one will see you in a while.

After unsuccessful times at the Fabric Warehouse we were getting hangry and decided since we were going to Porirua to go to Pete’s Emporium, we might as well go to Denny’s so as to avoid thinking. It wasn’t amazing but it filled the chip hole in my life. And Pete’s was a success, so hurray, progress for Boom.

After that we came home and I finished cleaning out my closet, like, literally. A big bag to go to the rag bins (I was really into boleros in 2005, apparently) and some better items saved to sell second hand at Reboom and a tremendous sense of satisfaction. The house is clean cos my cleaner came yesterday, and it feels calming. She brought me flowers even.

A box of syrups came from Six Barrel Soda Co cos apparently that’s what I do now instead of ordering cases of wine.

My counsellor emailed to say that I’m doing very well, which I know she’s basically legally obliged to say (much like my doctor was obliged to say my skin looked amazing) but it felt good anyway. The bummer is the kind of treatment she’s recommending for me is called ACT (Acceptance and Commitment Therapy) and honestly, maybe I’ll just have to imagine myself kicking David Seymour in the balls in order to stomach that name. Also possibly EMDR therapy, and I guess I’ll be waiting for the sweet drop then cos it sounds like EDM.

I responsibly ordered a mattress protector instead of a sex blanket, which I’m sure is the more grown up thing to do, but felt much more disappointing. Apparently my new bed and new couch will be arriving some time next week, so that’s very exciting. Whose dumb idea was it to get rid of their full length for sleeping on couch right before having a breakdown anyway? Perhaps it was good luck, because I’ve been forced to move around which has made me more prone to reading, writing, knitting a row while reciting mantras and trying to get shit done than lying slack-eyed and open jawed staring at Netflix. Perhaps.

Tonight I was supposed to hang out with Keith but I was actually stoked when he rain-checked, because I’ve had dinner at friends’ places two nights in a row, which is lovely, but tiring. I forgot what it’s like having flatmates to manoeuvre around. Instead, my tired ass is gonna watch Top of the Pops – The Story of 1989 (all the episodes in this are fantastic viewing) and then go to bed. It is possible I might fail at my goal of not crying today but that’s only because the next episode of Buffy is ‘Into the Woods’ and you know what? I actually think Riley got a pretty fucking raw deal. Yeah that’s right, I said it and I’m not sorry.

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