Salamander
Fire Walking

Still in a funk, still feeling like staying (mostly) incommunicado. Clueless sits on the windowsill behind me, having won possession from the Grey Menace. Sometimes mass is an advantage. He looks like a dog with its head out the car window, sitting there with his head a fraction of an inch from the front of the fan. He's been there a good ten minutes, taking in the scents and sights of the outside world on this muggy, post-thunderstorm evening. I wish I could smell what he smells. I could stand being as entranced by something as he clearly is.

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The box-fan came with two little trangle-shaped widgets that snap into the bottom and serve to stablize the fan in an upright position. I don't use them, because the fan slips nicely into the window; when I slide the inside window just a fraction of an inch shut the fan is locked into place. GM likes the plastic pieces though, so I leave them out for her to bat around my room.

I can tell the pieces are "male". Both are labeled "foot", though each is clearly no more than three inches long.

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I don't like taking this much pain med. I need it to help me sleep, but I refuse to take any during the day. The pain is nearly as bad as it was last February though, and is more extensive. The pain meds don't really stop the pain, but they do make me not care so much about it. I'll be out of pain meds soon, and then I'll have to decide where to go from here. I'm not convinced my neurologist is taking this particularly seriously. I may go back to my GP and see if she can't refer me to a real doctor. I don't want to do this until after my week vacation in California though. It's booked, I have the e-tickets, I have the time off work, and if I miss this, I won't be getting a week off for a long, long time. I think I need the vacation more than the pain killers.