I’m miserable. My head hurts, my throat is sore, my nose is blocked. But I can still taste and smell, so there’s that.
I think it’s just a regular cold.
I’m trying to think what to write right now, but nothing’s coming. I’m distracted by The Simpsons.
I’m expecting a gain this week. As usual, I did well all day, and fell apart every night. It’s the unstructured part of the day that gets me.
If I do fine in the day, it’s hard for me to think it’s all because of the Depo that I don’t do well at night. But I do well during the day because I have to. I have specific food packed and limited time to hit the vendeteria. So I don’t know.
But I’m afraid I’ve established some really bad habits that could persist beyond the effects of the Depo anyway. I need a plan for the night time. And the afternoon. I need a plan for all of my unstructured time. Whether I need to add more structure to my day or buy fewer snacks, I’ve got to change something.
I don’t think adding more structure is a good idea right now. I’m exhausted. But fewer snack choices might make me less apt to “sample” everything in sight. Like, the Fiber One bars are excellent, but I can never eat just one. It might be easier just not to buy them for a while. I’ve eaten enough of them in one day to make me sick.
Ugh. The cat just got off my lap and I am covered in his little orange hairs. Yuck. Black pants, too. I need to brush him.
Aww, he’s worth all the yucky cat hair. The sweetest cat I’ve probably ever had—no disrespect to Louis or Echo, they were special. But neither of them had the gentle, laid back disposition Shane has.
I’m wearing all black, actually. Black is my friend. Slimming.
I have to go. This week’s moment of truth awaits.