I feel like a pile o' poop, or maybe more like a pool of slime, yes a pool of slimey phlegm. I have yet another sinus infection. The doctor suggested going to an Autolaryncologist, ENT to see if maybe I have some sort of physical defect that's causing my recurrent sinus infections. I just got over one about a month ago. They usually seem to be incurred after my seasonal allergies flair up, but not this one. Ugh, I hate it. I hate being sick I hate blowing my nose every thirty seconds I hate snorting down snot when I don't have a kleenex or don't feel like getting up I hate feeling like I'm going go vomit from the amount of phlegm I injest in a never ending flow I hate that it feels like a three hundred pound man is trying to get out of my head through my sinus cavities I hate feeling all depressed I hate that I can't make a simple decision like do I sleep in pajamas or my clothes because it's just easier to wear what I have on I hate not having the energy to cook which makes me sad because Ilove to cook I hate it I hate it I hate it.
Hope that "sentence" was legible. It was my nod to A Million Little Pieces. That is exactly how the author writes, and it does make the book a bit daunting to read at times. No punctuation and no quotation marks or italics in the entire book. He swithes back and forth from narrative to dialog without a single hint. It is definitely an effect.
So, I'm supposed to be buying a new car. I actually have been buying a new car for over a year now. I get so bogged down by all of it and then just shut down at times. My parents gave me a nice chunk of cash for Christmas last year to go towards a car and here it is December again, and I still haven't bought one. I get so scared, no terrified that I'm going to make a wrong decision and get financially involved in something I can't handle. I enjoy a certain amount of freedom with my finances by not having a car payment. Now I'm just going to be like every other shlub I know, living paycheck to paycheck. I just can't see buying another used car and having to deal with problems inherent with them, but damn it's a lot of money.
So, add one part of fear, 2 parts procastination, a generous dash of phlegm, and you get: a depressed phibug. Why can't I just buck up and do this? I really don't understand when/where I got all scared and reticent to do things. Maybe I need therapy, maybe I need someone to slap me and say "grow up", maybe I just need to eat some dinner and go back to bed, and see what tomorrow brings. later, Philbug.
