It is so hilarious. The universe is going after my only stretch of core precious time in the day. Mom's chemo is now going to be all about pills. And I have to give it to her at 9 p.m. every weekday. I don't know how these parameters came to be. It doesn't have to be at 9 p.m. It doesn't make a fucking difference. Why did that time come by as the default? Why couldn't it have set up in a way that doesn't require me to have to correct it and talk and explain and persuade and put in effort to make it less costly to me? What the fucking fuck is this.
Now I waste half of my free time in more agony waiting to give mom more poison and everything in my body's in an elevated state of alert, where I've pretty much been continuously for the past year and a half since the diagnosis, peaking when dad knocks on my door to take mom to the ER or when I wake up at night and hear mom throwing up.
I should really change the name of this back. I hate how it looks. I'll take the risk. Fuck it.
A guy asked me for $20 today with a story attached. I felt no qualms whatsoever about saying no. I'm the exact opposite kind of person people who want something should ask. I don't give a fuck. Fuck you. Get the hell out of here.
I'm flailing around and quitting stuff to see what I could get rid of to make myself happy. It's the opposite of retail therapy. How much can I get rid of. Reddit. Youtube.
I want my raise damn it!
My left ear canal is bothering me. It has moments of pulse pain, low. Not really pain really, but kind of on the threshold of it.