Diary #307

Some weeks are just like, “Where the hell did that go?” and some seem interminable; the worst ones are a bit of both, so that when viewed in retrospect the bad parts seem to dwarf the others, like the disproportionate features of a sensory homunculus.  Last week was like that, and everything this week lies in the shadow of my much-dreaded flight to Los Angeles.  Don’t get me wrong; I’m sure I’ll enjoy the trip just fine after I get there.  But between this moment and Friday morning lies the awfulness of an airline flight, and long-time readers know how much I dread those.  Really, the main purpose of this trip is to test out the new meds I’m hoping will enable me to fly without degenerating into a crying, puking crazy woman and being completely useless until the next day.  To be perfectly honest, I will probably be so doped-up that I’ll still be useless until the next day, but uselessness due to being drugged into insensibility is vastly preferable to uselessness due to being sick, terrified and exhausted.  Anyhow, we’ll see.  If you live in the LA area and want to see me, this is last call; I might make an appointment after I get there if I can find the time, but I doubt that.  I’m going to keep myself as busy as possible so I don’t have time to stress out about the flight back.