Today I'm just...bleh. My back is still terrible, horrible, awful. The XY is refusing to provide me with his new health insurance information. I managed to eff up frozen pizza at dinnertime (THE HELL?). Hotter informed me that I am not myself lately and wanted to know what my problem was.* At one point I felt really defeated by it all and cried a little.
Hopefully tomorrow is better.
* My problem is nerve pain, lots of it, and fear that this will eff up my ability to keep doing the job that I enjoy so much and that has been so wonderful for our family. I try not to let this turn me into a raging bitch, and most of the time I think I do a pretty good job, but right before Hotter was moved to ask me this question he asked me why I was eating something, and I said "because I'm hungry," and he gave me A Look and said "no you're not." Then he wanted to know when I'll be off the prednisone, and the answer to that was "two days ago." I can be a fat bitch all by myself without any pharmaceutical help, apparently. I can also hate myself for it just fine without any help from him, though. I think in some fucked-up brain-damaged way he was trying to be helpful, but NO, BAD, WRONG.