September 2007

In the bread machine, right now, is a loaf of oatmeal pecan bread slowly rising to the top of the metal pan. The smell of fresh bread hasn’t hit me yet – there are still 2 hours left to go before it’s ready to eat – but oh, I am drooling at the idea of eating some freshly baked bread.

The machine hasn’t been used in.. a long time. It was gathering dust in our storage unit when the old house went up for sale and then it was gathering dust in our garage here in Kitchener as we ate a lot of pizza and unpacked boxes.

Coffee cleaned it up for me on the weekend and the oatmeal loaf is the first test. If it turns out well, it means the machine is still working. And if it’s still working, my next loaf will be my favourite – strong, flavourful rye bread with so many caraway seeds it almost crunches. *drool*

Out in the solarium, door closed, away from the air conditioning, the crockpot is simmering. It’s filled with North African Beef Stew. Slices of sweet potatoes and lean beef and cinnamon and dried fruit. Can’t smell that, either, with the door closed. It’ll be finished in about 3.5 more hours and then I’ll put some into the fridge and the rest into the freezer for Coffee’s lunches in the future.

And I’ve picked up the ingredients for lasagna and gnocchi.

Hello, nesting season! Hello!

(Also guest-posted on RealMental.)

Autumn is a mixed-bag of emotion and memory and experience for me.

On the one hand, it (in theory, at least) marks the start of cooler weather and less yard work and the opportunity to eat thick hearty stews and homemade oatmeal bread without breaking a sweat.

I can wear my sweet, precious hoodies again and dig out some of my soft fluffy socks to wear inside my combat boots. There’s an anticipated trip to the Rockton Fair and that unmistakeable smell of decaying leaves and, quite often, beautiful sunsets. Good things.

There are many good things about autumn and winter. I can see them and name them and touch them.

But the flip side, of course, is the Seasonal Affective Disorder creeping into my mood and my energy levels. And the depression that lurks.

The anniversaries and memories of death and dying and funerals and sadness – my parents, grandparents, best friend.. From September to February, my world is full of anniversaries of loss.

And let’s not forget the November anniversary of my month-long panic attack and the diagnosis of my panic disorder.

The skies grow darker, earlier, and I find myself wishing that I could curl up in a duvet until spring arrives. My beloved reminds me not to dwell on the memories. To acknowledge them and let them go. I’ve been getting better at it but it’s not good enough yet. Letting go. Letting go of the past.

At this point in autumn – the late days of September – I can already feel the tendrils of an impending collapse of my happiness. I try very hard to put it out of my mind. I remind myself that dwelling – on any of the aforementioned subjects – will not help me get through this. It will not make things better.

Dwelling is one of those things I do very, very well. I could win a gold medal in dwelling.

I dwell on conversations and images that are stuck in my head. I dwell on moments – pivotal moments – when my life shifted. I stack these memories up, together, and try to make sense of how I got to be this way. How did I become so afraid of the changing seasons?

The truth, of course, is that it wasn’t just one event or one circumstance that pushed me over the edge. And, perhaps, the cumulative effect of those experiences isn’t to blame either. There are too many possibilities – from the food I eat to the sleep I get – to try to make a neat, tidy package of explanation.

I realize I need to fight this. I realize that, if I don’t fight it, things will crash around me. But fighting is hard – I am an instant gratification junky. If it doesn’t impact on me immediately – a rush of adrenaline or a sugar-induced laughing fit – I can’t seem to make myself follow the rituals and routines. And yet, I know the only way to make it through the coming months is to fight.

If I don’t fight my hardest, my husband will come home from work and find me weeping about my life, my world, my existence. Weeping and blowing my nose and uttering absolutely useless phrases like, “I miss.. I miss.. EVERYBODY.” or “Everybody hates me and I have no friends and I am so alone.” Trying to expel a build-up of emotion that encompasses sadness and mourning and grief and fear is impossible. And, oh, god, there is so much fear.

This morning, my beloved dragged my SAD light out of the closet, dusted it off, and moved it upstairs to the bedroom. The idea is that I will bask in that light every morning from now until, well, next spring. I do not particularly enjoy the basking – try as I might – but I will do my best to sit patiently in the incredibly bright light for 30 minutes each day. Some days, I know, I will cheat and sneak downstairs earlier than I should.

I am back to my vitamins, my precious B12 and D and assorted omegas. I swallow them with my lunch – taking them at breakfast makes me nauseated for hours and hurts my stomach – and, if I believed in God, this is when I would pray. Please let the vitamins soar through my veins and adjust my chemistry and trick my cells into believing it is still summer and I am happy. Please let the B12 boost my sagging energy levels. Please, please, please. Please make it all okay.

I’m trying to motivate myself to get more intentional exercise – reportedly one of the best antidepressants available. I hate being sweaty and tired and out of breath but, as winter sneaks around me, I find myself tired and out of breath anyway. It’s as if my muscles are disintegrating in order to keep me motionless under a duvet all day.

I plod my feet along the treadmill in the darkened basement, trying to focus on recorded episodes of CSI – happily edited of commercials. I take advantage of the cooler days, when they come, and I walk the dogs to the park. I don’t feel any different.

Evidence that diet can impact majorly on depression makes me begin to read the various literature on the subject. Fresh vegetables. Omega-filled fish. Low fat, complex carbs. I know all of this and still I fight my body’s increased cravings for sugar and simple carbs.

I fight the instant gratification of junk food. Sometimes that makes me cry, too, as my body screams for cookies that will immediately soothe the anxiety and my brain shouts that I’m making it all worse if I indulge. It’s like those cartoons with a devil on one shoulder and an angel on the other – except, in this case, they’re both angry and hostile and glaring and I can’t win.

Everything makes me melancholy. Everything makes me question myself. Everything – everything – makes me feel guilty. For being alive, I suppose. I am incredibly uncomfortable about everything – the screaming cravings, the urge to hibernate, the grief, my own body.

I struggle and I fight and I do the very best that I can but, so many times, I fear that I can’t do enough.

Am I fighting biology and chemistry or am I fighting memories that are embedded into the very core of who I am? Where does my past and those experiences end and where does the seratonin begin? How can I keep myself afloat when I am so very, very tired?

I take my daily antidepressant – the prescribed kind, I mean – and I resist increasing the dose. It sounds dramatic to say that it takes away my personality in higher doses but I’m pretty sure it does. Even my husband, who loves me and wants me to be happy, will agree that I am not myself when I am on higher doses.

And some days I am okay – more than okay – and I fool myself into thinking that every day will be like this. I will smile and laugh and enthusiastically work on a project at the dining room table. I start to think that I’ve finally won out over the sadness – I’ve won the war. I feel alive and healthy and happy. Grateful. I feel like myself.

Then I wake – the very next day – and my body feels like lead. I run the previous day through my mind and wonder what I did wrong. Was it the sandwich for lunch or did I not get enough sunshine? Or maybe it was the day before that? How did I drain all the happiness out of my world while I was sleeping?

Autumn arrives and the fight begins and I am already tired of dragging myself up the endless mountain ahead of me. And I am afraid, no matter what I say. I am afraid of the months ahead of me but I will fight.

On our way home from picking up some buckets of compost – free from the city! – we happened across a garage sale that appeared to have a decent selection of toys.

We’re still collecting “in good shape” toys for our kid(s) and trying to build up a good bunch of interesting play-things without spending a lot of money. Once the kids arrive and we know their tastes, we can pick out specific toys for them (new, too!) but for now, this is working nicely and will give them a pretty good assortment to destroy in their first weeks here.

After locking the car and wandering up the driveway to peruse the tables, I noticed a hand-written sign reading, “DOVES – $5.00 each or $7.00 pair” which made me a little giddy. I love me some pigeons, my friends, and while I suspected Coffee wouldn’t be enthused about building me yet another aviary, I really wanted to see the doves.

The couple who were hosting the sale were kind enough to let us into their yard so I could check out the birds – even opening up the cage and bringing one out for me to hold. I love birds – they really are Nature’s Packing Peanuts – so light and fluffy and soft. I still miss my finches!

Here’s where things start to get a little wacky and delightful.

First, the dove in my hands decided to make its way to the ground and underneath a tree. Soon enough, Coffee was on his hands and knees crawling around the base of said tree, attempting to scoop the bird up. The little dove kept waddling away – in circles – around the trunk. This caused much laughter on my part – and on the part of the couple who owned the birds. They assured us that she wouldn’t fly far if she left.

Once she was safely back in her cage, we stood chatting about birds and dogs and various animals and their behaviours. They had the world’s quietest beagle in a run! Silent. Totally silent. It was very un-beagle-like.

Feeling that, perhaps, we were taking up too much of their time, we made our way back to the garage sale area and poked through more of the offerings. I looked up and noticed a taxidermied duck mounted on the wall of the garage itself – so I commented that I thought it was pretty cool.

I’m not a big fan of hunting – especially for sport and not for obtaining food – but taxidermied animals really intrigue me. No, I don’t want to own a dead, stuffed animal. I’d love to take it up as a hobby, however, and give away my finished projects so they couldn’t stare me down late at night.

As I spoke, the woman motioned to her boyfriend and said, “Take her inside!” (That’s a very Canadian thing – inviting strangers into your house after knowing them for 30 seconds at a garage sale..)

Inside the house – the small, unassuming house – we were introduced to a huge collection of stuffed birds, mounted fish, a very large raccoon, a mink and a stack of butterflies waiting to be pinned. I swear, my jaw dropped. I must have uttered the words, “ohmygod, this is so cool!” seventy times.

The man of the couple told us that he had caught/killed all the various animals and had them stuffed and, in some cases, mounted. Again, I’m pretty sure I uttered the “so! cool!” words another fifty times.

They allowed us to peek at their assorted moths and butterflies (pinned, of course) and then, as I was preparing to go back outside, they asked if I wanted to see “the fish”.

“The fish” were about 50 beta fish in bowls spread across the surface of two tables. And oh, they were gorgeous! Turns out the woman’s son obtained a pair from Thailand and now breeds them in Ottawa and sends them down here for his mom to sell – and they had a bit of a build-up at the moment. So we had the chance to gape and ooo and awwww at the stunning fish.

The viewing was followed by a discussion of some pretty gnarly health issues – the kind that makes you sort of glad to be YOU and not THEM – but my god, talk about fascinating.

By the time we left, they had told me to come back “any time!” to see the doves (or to pick some out for myself – cage included!) or to hang out with caterpillars or visit their beagle or, um, I dunno, maybe I could also pet the raccoon?

Melle reminds me that I am prone to attracting “crazy people” but, seriously, this was just insanely weirdly cool. Who knew that stopping at a garage sale could lead to that kind of interaction?

I love love love people.

I’m not kidding. Right up to the moment when he got a little explode-y with things… there’s a fine line between genius and madness, right?

“I just got mad seeing the machines ripping up the woods and so forth…”

I’m trying to find…

Someone to design a new blog layout for me. I’m not overly picky, but I do have some ideas that I’d like incorporated (easy stuffs, I think) and I have zero design skills of my own. I’m feeling blah about the all-white-and-spots and I’d like to shake it all up a bit in time for autumn/winter. Price negotiable!

An artist who could help me draft up my half-sleeve tattoo – again, based on my ideas. Price negotiable on this one, too, but it’ll likely involve more work than the web site design (because, um, tattoos are a helluva lot more permanent than my blog, y’know?) This will likely be one of those ‘longer’ projects as we bounce things back and forth to each other. I’m looking for something in a pinup-girl/punk/colourful style, specifically.

Anyone know someone? Any readers also artistic?

For a very long time, I have been obsessed with not letting people see the quirks and negatives. I pretended, to myself, that no one could see them – even though I knew, deep inside, that I wasn’t hiding those negatives very well. It’s not just me; no one can hide all the things they’d like to hide.

For example, you can’t walk into this house – or any other house I’ve lived in – and not notice the clutter and the doodads that are sitting out of place. I’ve made peace with that over the years, however, and focused instead on strange metrics of “cleanliness” that only my own brain could determine as part of a sliding scale of anxiety.

Would people be more likely to notice a big stack of wayward papers or the tiny uneven hem on a dish towel?

No matter, I’d focus on the dish towel – because I could handle it without feeling overwhelmed and anxious.

And that’s what it all comes down to, for me: the avoidance of anxiety. The avoidance of feeling overwhelmed.

A long time ago, some friends were coming from out of town to stay for a few days. I was excited about seeing them and definitely looking forward to some good conversation and some time spent hanging out.

But as I prepared for their arrival – changing the sheets on the guest room bed, moving the clutter from the bedside table – I was struck with an overwhelming, “not enough” feeling. The anxiety popped in and..

.. soon enough we were re-painting the entire first floor of the house.

No joke. The entire first floor of the house.

We had planned to repaint that area “eventually” and had briefly discussed the colours we’d use. But when that anxiety appeared, I dragged Coffee to the store and then we spent a few days taping and sanding and painting the walls as I got more and more anxious and irritable.

I kept thinking how horrible I’d feel if my friends arrived and saw the walls – which looked just fine, if somewhat drab – without that fresh paint. I convinced myself that if the walls were painted I’d feel just fine and completely un-anxious and the visit with my friends would go smoothly.

I did not obsess over the dog hair on the stairs that I could, in theory, have tackled in about 30 seconds.

The friends arrived, barely noticed the walls (because, after all, not many people walk into a home and shout, “Holy crap! That’s the best freshly-painted wall I’VE EVER SEEN! WOW!”) and we immediately started chatting and hanging out. Y’know, like we had intended to do during their visit.

The anxiety, I’ve learned, stems from a feeling that I – me, myself – am not good enough. It’s a feeling that if I can just wrangle every single other aspect of my world into perfection, people won’t notice that I’m not perfect. They’ll visit me, or spend time with me, and think, “Well, she laughs too loud and her jeans are too tight, but I can forgive that because her towels are clean and neat and the walls are freshly painted.”

It’s insane. I mean, really.

There have been many other instances where I’ve gone absolutely overboard – making myself exhausted and near-hysterical when I realize I can’t accomplish the entire redecorating of our home in the space of a few hours. The anxiety builds and builds and builds and builds and, soon enough, I’m screaming at Coffee and crying.

For a while, I decided I just wouldn’t have anyone over. That turned out to be spectacularly impractical, of course.

A few years ago, I started working on this problem very consciously. If someone said they’d be “stopping by to pick up/drop off” something – I’d only tidy up the first floor of the house, rather than insisting on scouring every surface available and running around like an idiot. I’d remind myself, out loud and repeatedly, that they were only staying for 30 seconds and they wouldn’t be going upstairs to inspect the ensuite bathroom. And that worked.

Then I stopped doing other little things – as a test, mainly. I’d leave a plate and a fork in the sink and watch my ‘guest’ very carefully to see if their eyebrows raised on seeing them there. I can’t think of any time when the eyebrows were raised or a comment was made. I’d leave the dog toys in the middle of the living room and wait for someone to run screaming from my house at the sheer HORROR of it all. Again, no reactions.

When friends comes over – people who’ve known me for a while – I’ve learned to just let things go. Last night, for example, Melle and Andrew were over visiting and I did not repaint the entire first floor, of course, but I also didn’t scour every surface and wash down the kitchen cabinets. The carpet was vacuumed, some clutter was cleared to allow room for snacks and drinks on the coffee table, and.. that’s it.

I had been feeling unwell for much of the week and hadn’t cleaned anything – and in the past I’d have used up every drop of my spare energy to remedy that – but this time I didn’t let that send me into a spiral of hysteria. I just made the place as comfortable as possible and moved on.

Here’s the biggest thing I’ve learned: No one cares. Seriously. Unless it’s a health hazard, and most things are not, no one cares.

I don’t care – honestly, truly – if I visit someone and end up covered in pet fur and lint. I don’t care if I visit someone and their sink has soap scum or there’s a plate on the kitchen counter. I don’t care if someone has a stack of unread magazines next to the sofa that falls over when I walk near it. I just don’t care because that’s not why I’m there.

I have also learned that I suck at perfection. Even when I run around like a maniac, I cannot create a home/experience that mimics a magazine spread or an environment without flaws. When Coffee reminds me that people come “to see me” and not my house, I have to take some deep breaths and agree with him.

The anxiety, too, has faded. Last night, when M&A visited, I could have found a thousand flaws in our home and driven myself crazy wondering if either of them noticed and thought terribly of me as a result. Instead, I relaxed and ate some more Buffalo Wing pretzels (“They taste like… vinegar… and.. jalapeno peppers…” – according to Melle who, apparently, is not a buffalo wing fan..)

This morning, when I realized the bathroom floor had dog hair and the sink was kind of scuzzy, and that my friends had witnessed it, I just shrugged.

And then I walked out of the bathroom without cracking open the cleaning wipes.

Progress. We are making progress here, people.

Just in time for the weekend, my head seems to have mostly cleared itself of snot and goo and other nasty stuffs. I’m not at 100%, yet, but my energy level is up and my enthusiasm for existence is making a steady return and, well, that’s cause for celebration, I think!

Yahooooooooo! Wheee! Wooooooohoooooo! [add in some bum-shakin' dancing here]

There’s a big ol’ UFC fight this weekend – featuring some of my favourite fighters – and I was starting to worry that everyone else would be watching the fights as I lay in a pool of my own snot in another room. I was beyond thrilled to breathe through BOTH nostrils when I woke up – talk about luxury!

In honour of my newly-appreciated ability to breathe, I may even make it onto the treadmill later.

Today I’ll need to be ultra-productive in order to make up for the past few days of lethargy. There are groceries to be purchased, pre-fight tidying to do, perhaps some laundry and, without question, some outside work to clean up and, of course, a long hot shower at the end of the day.

It feels so good to be awake and alive.

• being naked, while reading a book on the bed after a shower, and letting my skin air-dry
• forgetting to do all sorts of tasks, chores and routines in favour of reading a really good book
• eating dessert first – and sometimes in lieu of a real meal
• making sex noises (moaning, groaning, sighing) while having my back massaged – it serioiusly enhances the massage!
• chapstick in every pocket, purse and pouch
• long naps whenever I feel the urge
• Demeter perfumes
• getting the first taste of everything
• Rocket Dog shoes
• jamma pants during daylight hours

My brain is full of things to tell you – but my body would really rather lie down for the next six hours. Yargh.

I’m still sniffling and feeling under the weather, but now I’m also agitated by feeling this way for more than a few days. I’m pretty sure Coffee went to work today only to escape my a) constant whining and, b) my repeated requests that he “stay home” and “don’t leeeeeeave me”. I feel like I’m trying to breathe underwater over here!

He will, of course, try to convince you that it’s because we “need money to buy food” but, well, yeah. Look deep into his eyes and see his weary brain and know that he’s kind of happy to be at the office where no one gets weepy about having clogged sinuses. At least, I assume no one gets weepy about clogged sinuses and, if they DO, they’re probably the one who inflicted this pestilence on our home and thus I have no sympathy.

Now I leave you with my current favourite song lyrics – current, meaning “today” – and hope that it’ll inspire you.

“Anarchy Camp”
by NoFX

I got an invitation to go to anarchy camp
there will be twistin’, fistin’, biting, fighting all in an evening
the soundtrack will go multi platinum,
barbecue a boca while the effigies burn
you may not wanna stay to see how we take care of a turncoat
Christiania’s kinda far away so come along with me
we can dance and trip and be anarchists
we gotta get the manual and put it in the oven ’til it cooks
then we’re gonna take the ashes to the wassail
and use them to spike the punch

rules of anarchy camp: reckless abandonment,
random acts of dumbness will be rewarded
if you see somebody taking charge,
you’ll be expected to beat them
cause everyone who’s no one, will be participating
no one who is someone, will ever get to know
the joys of anarchism, destruction of the system, yeah!

so come along with us,
salad days and nights on the anarchaic bus
we’re gonna pick up indigents and crusties and a half a dozen nuts
and we’re never coming home

underwater basket-weaving (we got some arts and crafts)
meth-amphetamine symposiums (they last a couple days)
African killer spelling bees (you better get it right)
bowling in ice hockey rinks (of course checking is allowed)
anarchy camp’s never inert (you think we don’t know that it’s)
not much fun ’til someone gets hurt (our only motto)
so we’re greasing up the rusty vert ramp
time to make some reservations for next years anarchy camp

My head is full of snot and I’m achey and grouchy and whiny.. so I’m giving you another meme to chew on while I’m downing Tylenol and endless glasses of water..

1. Where were you 1 hour ago?
Standing in the kitchen watching the Bluejays divebomb the front porch and watching Coffee get ready for work.

2. Who will your next kiss be with?
My beloved husband will be the next real kiss – but I smooch the dogs all day long so they’ll be the next recipients.

3. Do you kiss a lot of people?
Nope – just Coffee, generally.

4. Are you wearing socks right now?
I’m barefoot right now and that’s how I came to realize my toenail polish needs redoing in the near future.

5. When was the last time you went out of state?
I’m changing this to “province” and.. it’s been quite a few months! I need another cross-border trip soon so that’ll fix that.

6. Have you been to the movies in the last 5 days?
I can’t remember the last time I was at a movie theatre. I’m hoping to see “Across the Universe” (the commercials and previews make me cry) because it looks like an absolutely amazing movie and the sort that would work best on a huge screen with loud tracks.

7. What was the last thing you had to drink?
Water.

8. What are you wearing right now?
Black with pink/white hearts on it thong, red capris, peach coloured bra, blue “Total World Domination” linux t-shirt and a ponytail.

9. What was your last purchase?
I bought some crappy clothes at Old Navy!

10. Last food you ate?
A granola bar with my coffee this morning. Soon I’ll be eating a cabbage sammich.

11. Who was the last person you talked to on the phone?
I seriously can’t remember the last time I used the phone. It’s been.. weeks.

12. Have you bought any clothing items in the last week?
Yep – Old Navy crap.

13. Do you have a pet?
Daisy (black lab mix); Zooey (beagle); JubJub (gigantic goldfish); Ninja, Mina and Tasha (rats).. I’d really like to add a red-eared slider (turtle) to that collection but there isn’t a great place for a gigantic tank (and they need HUGE tanks for when they’re fully grown!)

14. What’s the last sporting event you watched?
UFC, of course! And that’ll be the NEXT sporting event I watch, too!

15. Are you a pirate?
Today EVERYONE Is a pirate! Arrrrr Matey!

16. If you could be anywhere right now, where would you be?
In bed, asleep or having Coffee massage my back/neck to make me feel better.

17. What is the last thing you purchased online?
The InvisibleShield for my TX.

18. One thing you hate about yourself?
My energy levels are non-existent. It bothers me waaaay more than it should, I suspect, but I was always a very high-energy person and now I frequently feel like a slug. Meh.

19. What’s your favorite soup?
I am not a fan of soup, really, or any other warm beverage besides coffee. But I like pretty much all soups when you get right down to it – especially if they have loads of veggies in them!

20. Do you miss anyone?
In the short term, I miss Coffee. In the long term, I really, really, really miss my Dad.

21. Last play you saw?
I can’t remember seeing a play in the past decade.

22. What are your plans for the day?
To start, I need to clean up the kid(s)’ room and pack up some stuff to send to Goodwill. I’m going over to my friend Linda’s house this afternoon to see some pictures on her computer. At some point I’m pretty sure I’ll nap/lie down.

24. Ever go to camp?
As a proud former Girl Guide, I can say that yes, I have definitely been to camp many, many times in many, many places.

25. Were you an honor roll student in school?
Only the year that my parents bribed me with a new computer in exchange for straight As. Otherwise, I just didn’t care all that much about my grades – other than the yelling and screaming from my mom when I got home with less than As.

26. What do you know about the future?
That it will be full of unexpected people, places and things. I also know there’s not much point in making big ol’ plans for the future because, well, they change.

27. Are you wearing any perfume or cologne?
Nope. I love my Demeters, though, and whenever I’m in the right mood I’ll apply something funky. Lately I’ve been stuck on Pomegranate.

28. How is one to classify?
Um, what?

29. Do you have a tan?
I have a tan on my feet (evidenced by the white lines from my croc flip-flops) and my arms are lightly toast-coloured. I do not intentionally tan and I wear sunscreen if I’ll be out in the sun for a long time. I’d rather be pasty than cancery.

30. How old do you want to be when you have kids?
Soon? Like now?

31. Last person who made you cry?
Meerket Manor people. That show is BRUTAL.

32. Do you have any tattoos or piercings?
Yes! I have my nose pierced, my ears (multiple times and cartilege, too), right nostril, my inner labia (three times) and I used to have my nipple and belly button done, too. I have tattoos on my stomach, back, ankle and shoulder blade. I have many more planned – I just need the money!

32. Have you ever drank your soda from a straw?
I pretty much always do – I try to protect my teeth.

33. How do you like your soda?
Caffeinated and cold.

34. Do you like hot sauce?
On some things, yes. Mmm…

35. Next time you’ll take a shower?
Probably tomorrow – unless I magically find the energy and health to go for a run this afternoon. (Ha!)

37. What is your mood?
Tired and feeling unwell and sorry for myself, of course!

38. Are you someone’s best friend?
I’m definitely Coffee’s best friend. I can’t speak for other people!

39. What did you want for Valentine’s Day?
To spend it with Coffee. No specific plans; just hanging out and being together.

40. What are you doing right now?
Sitting on the sofa with my feet up on the coffee table.