I was depressed today, so I did what I always do when I'm so depressed that I'm wandering around the apartment like a zombie. I fiddled with my computer. I cleaned up adware, spyware, checked for trojans and updated my virus settings. PC Scanned my hard drive, ran windows updates, and otherwise killed time. Spent a lot of time staring at walls and my shins, not necessarily in that order.
I did two loads of laundry. The effort of this made me stumble back to the apartment and fall face-forward across the bed. Somewhere I found the strength to pull the blankets over my head, and there I stayed until half-way through the afternoon. Then I figured that I'd better make something to eat, and since the leftovers from last night's dinner didn't really appeal to me, I rummaged through the cupboard and pulled some stuff out, threw it in a pot, and cooked it. Two bowls later, I was very sick. The combination I came up with evidently is not a good one. I've dumped it in the Great Burial Ground in the dumpster, and we will never speak of it again. I'm now cooking a pot of rice, salted and buttered, which is bland and nutritious and will sit much easier on my tummy. I still haven't put the laundry away. It's sitting in a clean heap in the hamper where I set it down before my face-plant.
Maybe I'll get the motivation to do something productive later. The day started with all these good intentions of Stuff to Do. Watch me be Productive! Betty Crocker ain't got nothing on me. Or is that Martha Stewart? Whichever, I was going to embrace my Domestic Goddess Self and let the crinolines poof around my shins. Speaking of which, I'm dreading going back to my oncologist in June. Of the many things wrong with me at this point in my life, one of them is thrombocytosis. High Platelets. Not dangerously high, or anything where they'd have to act, but I've definately got high platelets. One of the things I have to be aware of are blood clots, and another is if I suddenly start bruising more easily. So here we are. Since KittyCat came home I've been getting lots of mystery bruises on my shins- mostly from whacking the baby carrier into them walking back and forth from the car. The mystery bruises on my thigh are from either my knitting needles or, again, my Wiggly Squirmy Baby Girl. Whichever, I'm fine with. Doesn't bother me at all, except there's got to be a screening somewhere for mothers who get beat up by their babies in the process of perfectly normal playing. So tell me, how did I achieve my latest spectacular mark? On the shin, when Baby is across the country, that was so bruised it was literally dark purple at first and is only now a week later approaching "normal" yellow-green tones of a healing bruise. It wasn't small like most of my mystery bruises, either.