Well that's a relief.

I was due at my gastro's about now, waiting out the front for a taxi, wondering where the hell it was. I heard a message go through to the answering machine I figured I'd just check since it was time to call the taxi company to ask how far away my cab was anyway, and the message was from my gastro asking me not to come in because he is flat out and that he'll pop by later.

Lucky timing. And yay for not having to go out again.

My massage therapist came by this arvo and took one look at me and could see I was a wreck. I had to go out briefly earlier today, and this is after going to my shrink's yesterday and then last night foolishly going out with 10B and V to watch 10B shovel mulch and then go and get takeaway and shamble through the supermarket. It was a much needed break to my routine but ermmmyes, overdoing it just a tad.

However I am happy to say that lying face down for an hour then quietly sitting and surfing has been most restorative, and now that I don't have to go out and botch up all my new found restorosity, I'm really feeling quite pleased.

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I am thinking that since I seem to be quietly getting back on an even keel CFS-wise(touchwood!), what increased capacity I have is probably going to go on getting outside. I need for trips past the front gate to be less of an event in themselves. I want to get over what I think is almost a kind of sickness-induced agoraphobia that makes going into the outside world exhausting just from the mere novelty of the act: an unfamiliarity with the sky, the traffic and the presence of Other People; a heightened level of self-consciousness that doesn't even need people to be nearby for me to feel it; I'm also far too used to _not_ being on my own and always having 10B beside me.

To that end I'm going to try getting washed and dressed as the first act of the day so that there's no preparation to be done when I might be able to go out later on. This means I can crash out again and get my energy back, rather than think I might like to go out and then fuck up just because of the process of getting my shit together and then give up because it's all too hard. It also means that on days when I do have to go out, getting ready will be less of an event on accoutn of having spread the preparation (cognitive more than anything) over the day.

Yeah, I know it seems self evident but I don't exactly live a normal life and various processes and normal habits often become counterproductive and have to be put aside and not reinstated until it's clear they are once again useful. And this might make me sound like one sick puppy, but I find the choices we make about our daily lives to be quite intriguing.

Okay, maybe one really boring puppy. That's if puppies can be boring with their cold, wet noses and big, clumsy paws.** Heh. Puppies!

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One of our neighbours has two gorgeous little pomeraniums or whatever they are. Dogs, anyway. Fluffy little things and extraordinarily good natured. The older I get the more tolerant I am of small fuzzy dogs and I must ask my psychiatrist about this, maybe it's a sign I'm perimenopausal. It must be a sign of something anyway.
yes I'm being silly

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I have a horrible feeling I'm a postal voter and that I've tossed out my postal vote form thinking it was junk mail...

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Seriously, I will explain the stuff about existential anxiety. One day. After I've done all the other serious things I've said I'll do, which I know you're all waiting for with bated breath.

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**Just for the record, my nose is not wet and my paws are delicately feminine.