I'm not depressed, I don't think, but I sure as hell don't feel overly motivated.
Perhaps, it's
that his shoes were too tight. Or it could be that his head wasn't screwed on just rightNow, if you have paid any fucking attention at all, you'd know that I can't wear shoes very often at all. The bastards hurt my feet.
-"The Grinch" by Dr. Seuss
My head not being screwed on right... well, that might be part of it.
Let's see HTF most of these other "normal" bastards handle the emotional roller-coaster that those of us suffering with Bipolar disorder go through.
Last night we had a hell of a thunderstorm that swept through here and I didn't sleep well.
I have an antenna mounted on our chimney and after a bit, I got really worried about it getting struck.
In my office/radio shack, I have a wire attached to a "ground" outside, but it's not a very good wire.
The antenna itself has no need to be attached to the "ground", but the wire obviously came into the house, and I started to worry.
So I attached the antenna to the wire at first...
Then I thought, because the fucking wire is so thin, if it did get struck, it'd act like a fuse and glow nice and red hot.
Well, I finally got up, and pushed the antenna wire back through the window and went to bed.
I stayed awake until the storm passed by, which was around 0100. (1:00 AM to you non-military time folks)
During that time, though, I listened to another radio show using my phone's old timey radio show app.
I'd go apey for it, but that'd be a little too much to "Oh Brother" about.Well, to go on with the "Same shit", my damn knees are all fucking swollen.
Like that's ever going to fucking change.
Actually, it's not both knees.
It's the right fucker.
I'd post a picture of the bastards, but I don't know...
I mean, it's not as if very many people can identify someone else by a picture of their knees/legs.
Well, I do have some scars on there that are very unique to me...
I have too damn many scars...
I guess, WTF doesn't?
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