high anxiety

Go in tomorrow for my annual brain tweaking with Dr C. He won't let me have meds unless I come in and visit - stupid man and his stupid medical ethics!

Something about his waiting room always makes me feel as though I'm scouting locations in Burkettsville for my senior film thesis. I don't know why. He's a perfectly nice man, his actual office is quite comfy (I envy him his Prozac[TM] coffee mug and wish I had one for work), and after making sure that I haven't slit my wrists or set fire to any neighbors' pets, we usually fill out the appointment mocking the Republican party. It's either the lighting in the waiting room, or I worry that one of the other patients has maybe waited just a little too long to go in, and will suddenly pull a gun or, worse, start talking to me.

Now that I think about it, it's an awful lot like riding a city bus.

read to me!

Book days! I got a lovely package from the boys and girls at Amazon with prezzies from Bonita - a big juicy picture book called Cinderella Skeleton (oh, why don't they just call it The Nightmare before Cinderella and have done with it?!?), and a fabbo yet problematic book on anime called Samurai from Outer Space. At lunch today I went to The Bookstore With The Cats, and somebody had traded soem of in their anime/manga collection - I put four volumes of Appleseed to be ransomed later, and came out with a lovely You're Under Arrest! Roman Album (except they apparently call them Mooks nowadays) and a copy of Intron Depot. Yow! Then I get home and the new Melissa Good uberXena novel is waiting, all fresh and bubble-wrapped.

So the reading thing is all solved and subculture-licious.

Until next week.

muhuhuhuhuhuhuh...