The clotting issue appears to have returned. The pain is ridiculous and if I say I've not completely over done it today I'm lying.

Almost no sleep. Up to call my social worker and sort some things out. After staying up organizing and sorting I finally got my printer wirelessly working so I've got almost everything needed to turn in.

Cleaned cat litter, took three containers of recyclables out to the back porch, finished getting boxes ready to ship, so many chores hovering that I gave up waiting for Will so I did them. It's like the compost. I've not only asked him to use it but when he hadn't dumped it since his return I asked yesterday and then I found he hadn't and I asked him again so he did.

But that's a problem I'm running into over and over. He's an excellent cook and that helps me eat. He's almost Asian in his keeping of rice always going in my rice cooker. It's almost never off. But he's good at making tea and never forgets my morning ritual even if he forgets night ones. But it's difficult because of his self-isolation. He doesn't clean or attempt to help me in the organizational chores which means they don't get done unless I do like today.

And end up completely bruised with myoclonus so bad I'm beyond stuttering and shaking. I'm twisted in a sort of curly-q shape and shivering and if I try to talk it's horrible because I'm stuttering from the palate issue and so forth. It was bad when the morning started and now I'm about as bad as when it first hit after my horrible never to be repeated stay at Pill Hill Alta Bates.

In other words I'm beyond fucked health-wise and it's horribly frightening because while I'm most definitely not afraid to die I am most certainly not strong enough to keep up the pretense that I can do this. Because I no longer can.

When people who have seen how sick I get tell me point blank they're unable to accept the fact of my illness because they don't want to believe it...it makes me feel even more alone and like utter shite.

And so I end up bruised all over - the two light marks are from walking the dogs with my cane. The other side of the same arm is covered from the infinite number of things that can bruise even when not anemic in the least bit.

Whining on and I need to stop because I have a video I took that I wish to post for Erica. Her birthday's the 18th.

There's probably no point but: Have spare time? Have a love of cuddling platonically with friends even without ecstasy? Love movies and/or games? Please come share hugs and warmth and force me to rest. If you have spare time and want to possibly earn some money please come and sell all the things I need or want to sell and get a hefty commission.

And a 43rd birthday has no reason for celebration. Please let it not even need to be thought of. And Tim Burton should be horsewhipped and possibly keelhauled for ruining what could have been a great film if he didn't cast the mother of his child (children?) as the female lead in a movie needing at least semi decent singing and his close friend as the lead male role who needs an even stronger singing voice - instead it ended up looking great but those sometimes flat notes couldn't stop peeping through. Ouch and ow.