Right. I suppose I ought to update.

Thing is, I'm taking Benadryl for the allergy to cats, and it puts me to sleep. At the moment, I don't feel like doing much other than sleeping. If I take two Sudafed at the same time I take the Benadryl, they cancel out the drowsiness and replace it with hyperactivity, and then I can't get to sleep at all. So I'm taking Benadryl straight right before I go to bed and in the middle of the night, and it takes forever for the residual drowsiness to wear off. I know I need a new allergy medicine, but this one was expensive, and I intend to use up my package before shopping around-- especially since Benadryl is the strongest nonprescription allergy med on the market and it is just barely strong enough. (I actually need those Sudafed.) I figure I'll try to get a prescription for Claritin at my doctor's appointment when I go back to Ohio in August.

Other than that, my mood and life can best be described as 'bleah'. I'm trying to relax and take a vacation, because I noticed that I hadn't had one in a couple years. Time off, yes, but not time off in which I was not trying to make myself do something productive. I really don't remember the last long stretch of time in which the only thing I tried to do was enjoy myself. This summer, I've been trying to get a job, trying to write, and trying to be a reasonable housewife, since my housemate is employed and I'm not and I was feeling guilty about having her do any of the chores, which was silly of me. I pretty much got into a state in which I was trying so hard to make myself do things that I couldn't even tell if I wanted to do them. I mean, I've had the following poem by Charlotte Bronte running through my head for about a week:

Riches I hold in light esteem,
and Love I laugh to Scorn
and Lust of Fame was but a game
that Vanished with the Morn--

and if I Pray, the only Prayer
that moves my lips for me
is: Leave me the Heart that now I bear
and give me Liberty.

(She was twenty-two when she wrote that. See me die of admiration.) At any rate, except that I have never and will never laugh Love to scorn, that has been encapsulating my state of mind so thoroughly that I realized I had to relax.

The problem is, I have entirely forgotten how, and so I wander about all the time feeling vaguely like there is something I ought to be doing and feeling vaguely guilty that I'm not out doing it. Damn the whole Catholic School background anyhow, and my New England forebears-- I seem to honestly feel immoral when all I'm trying to do is relax and enjoy life. Stupid state of affairs. I'm sure I'll remember how to relax at some point, if only I can stop trying so hard to relax.

Angst-O-Meter: vacillating wildly between about 3 and about 9, depending on the time of day, my awakeness, and what I'm doing. Bleah.

Right. I suppose I ought to update.

Thing is, I'm taking Benadryl for the allergy to cats, and it puts me to sleep. At the moment, I don't feel like doing much other than sleeping. If I take two Sudafed at the same time I take the Benadryl, they cancel out the drowsiness and replace it with hyperactivity, and then I can't get to sleep at all. So I'm taking Benadryl straight right before I go to bed and in the middle of the night, and it takes forever for the residual drowsiness to wear off. I know I need a new allergy medicine, but this one was expensive, and I intend to use up my package before shopping around-- especially since Benadryl is the strongest nonprescription allergy med on the market and it is just barely strong enough. (I actually need those Sudafed.) I figure I'll try to get a prescription for Claritin at my doctor's appointment when I go back to Ohio in August.

Other than that, my mood and life can best be described as 'bleah'. I'm trying to relax and take a vacation, because I noticed that I hadn't had one in a couple years. Time off, yes, but not time off in which I was not trying to make myself do something productive. I really don't remember the last long stretch of time in which the only thing I tried to do was enjoy myself. This summer, I've been trying to get a job, trying to write, and trying to be a reasonable housewife, since my housemate is employed and I'm not and I was feeling guilty about having her do any of the chores, which was silly of me. I pretty much got into a state in which I was trying so hard to make myself do things that I couldn't even tell if I wanted to do them. I mean, I've had the following poem by Charlotte Bronte running through my head for about a week:

Riches I hold in light esteem,
and Love I laugh to Scorn
and Lust of Fame was but a game
that Vanished with the Morn--

and if I Pray, the only Prayer
that moves my lips for me
is: Leave me the Heart that now I bear
and give me Liberty.

(She was twenty-two when she wrote that. See me die of admiration.) At any rate, except that I have never and will never laugh Love to scorn, that has been encapsulating my state of mind so thoroughly that I realized I had to relax.

The problem is, I have entirely forgotten how, and so I wander about all the time feeling vaguely like there is something I ought to be doing and feeling vaguely guilty that I'm not out doing it. Damn the whole Catholic School background anyhow, and my New England forebears-- I seem to honestly feel immoral when all I'm trying to do is relax and enjoy life. Stupid state of affairs. I'm sure I'll remember how to relax at some point, if only I can stop trying so hard to relax.

Angst-O-Meter: vacillating wildly between about 3 and about 9, depending on the time of day, my awakeness, and what I'm doing. Bleah.