Mid-moult

I’m marginally more functional than yesterday. The steroid withdrawal this cycle has been rough. I generally spend at least part of Sundays preparing food for the week, but there is no way I have the energy to cook today. Instead, I spent most of the day watching detective shows that normally have too many plot contradictions to interest me, but in my spaced-out state, they’re just fine.

It’s times like this that I particularly miss having a partner to share my feelings with. In an ideal world, he’d also find ways to make me laugh. I feel quite vulnerable being so weak and tired. At the same time, I don’t want to be an imposition. I worry that my friends would be bored with my slow pace on days like this, so I’d rather be on my own — even though company would probably cheer me up. On days like these, I have extra sympathy for creatures that moult — their eyes clouding over, their mobility restricted, and definitely not at their best, until they shed their skin and feel reasonable again. (Gratuitous link to video of moulting giant spider crab).

Since I’m in my 30s, “shed . . . skin” immediately gave me a Sledgehammer earworm. I could use a “sledgehammer” right now. Can’t wait until I feel that power! Yeah! (Just give me a day or so. . .)

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