I need to get out of the house, regardless of how scary I look. Maybe I’ll just go to a movie, where I’ll spend most of the time in the dark. Being cooped up, unable to swim or do anything is making me depressed. The medication may be contributing.
The question is: will I make it to choir practice tomorrow? Physically, I feel up to it. I can’t sing very well, the skin inside my mouth is tight from the surgery and I seem to have acquired a lisp, but going to rehearsal will be helpful regardless, I’ll still learn. Except I continue to look like something out of a horror movie, like that thing in the basement that makes everyone scream, “don’t go down there!” I honestly don’t think I can bear people seeing me like this. What’s worse, I’m sure no one cares. If anything they’ll think, “poor you!”
Is this who I am? Will I miss something I love to do, something that will make me feel a lot better, at a time when I really need to feel better, because I don’t want anyone to see me when I look this bad? I never would have thought so, but I’m definitely on the fence about going.
Before I forget, WIRED has begun a series that looks amazing: The Decades That Invented the Future. It’s on my to-read list.
And speaking of depressed, I should probably not watch the debate tonight. I don’t think I’m emotionally strong enough.
The curl-up below lasted about two seconds. Then Finney woke up. The problem is, the kitten spends all day attacking Finney, so by the time he is ready to cuddle up and rest Finney is all, “Die, kitten, die.” I was so hoping to see them curl up together like this it almost made me cry. Unfortunately, this scene hasn’t been repeated since.