Put The Cape Away

My phone buzzed before even I got up. Scottie's pup had tanked again, they were at an ER vet, and the vet had agreed to go ahead and start working with the promise I'd swoop in. Of course I did. That's realistically been one of the Silver Linings about the whole addiction thing. I'm starting to let go of the Death Grip I've had on cash forever.

The shirt I drunk-ordered, then screamed at myself over and over again for not making perfect, arrived and...I honestly love it. I don't know whether it would've been better with those ideas, but I love it exactly as it is.

At Tim's insistence, I did finally email my psychiatrist about a replacement for Wellbutrin. Some conversation I had reminded me of being at D&D back when Patrick lived close, and he introduced me to Michelle Chamuel when I started drowning over his neighbor's domestic disturbance.