Consistency is overrated

Only a few weeks from absolute bloody zero and I’m already forgetting my pills. (Prednisone!) I need Mrs. Featherbottom.

It’s frustrating that after all the pain and problems and my increased understanding of how necessary it is, right now, for me to take each and every one of these pills, that I can still forget. Three times a day isn’t rocket science. Even when you’re breaking up the normal American society three meals-a-day into five or six or seven, it’s still not rocket science. I shouldn’t need to tie string around my fingers a la Uncle Billy, goddamn it. I can’t decide whether it’s just forgetfulness, or if it’s my brain reverting back to that dangerous La la lala I’m normal again there’s nothing wrong with me lala mindset. Argh.

In other news, I received this pretty princess in the mail yesterday:

Death-day!
Death-Day! I may know people involved with this. Well, one of them. Maybe. Or maybe I just get mysterious pretties in the mail. That’s a definite possibility.

For more info on Death-Day and/or Sam Hiti, click here. And therein ends my pimping.

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