Lay on Macduff.

All this evening I've wanted to make some sort of a blog post, just to prove to myself that I'm still alive, but I've been too tired and too drained by the business of struggling through the daily round. Today has been another difficult one. Usual things -- transport hiccups, nurses' appointments running late, no morning coffee, no lunchtime food, lots of time spent sitting or standing around like a lemon. And then there were the daily glitches, the most irritating of which was the fact that tonight my computer refused to play YouTube videos. It got half way through one and then stopped and said 'hold; enough.' You wouldn't think a computer would be able to quote Macbeth, would you? Mine can, even though it can't play YouTube videos.

And I've got a post sitting in 'draft' waiting to be finished and posted. I started writing it last night but stopped when it began to hurt my brain. It was a commentary on Virginia Woolf's writing and was becoming almost as convoluted. Maybe I'll finish it tomorrow.

 

But I did finally provide a phial of blood for medications-related analysis this afternoon, only this time they also wanted a urine sample. The nurse gave me a little bag containing the newfangled apparatus which is more complex than the simple old specimen bottle. She spent approximately three seconds explaining what to do, and then left it to my befuddled brain to get it right. I think I did. I was also concerned, however, that the examination and analysis of bodily fluids might occasion the accrual of consequences, and that brought the dark mist back down on the matter of future prospects.

But for now I'm going to call it a wrap. I'm feeling unusually oppressed by the metaphorical cow dung being thrown at me nearly every day, and I'm feeling bereft of company now that all the people with whom I used to commune in cyberspace have gone. Sorry this is a miserable post. Miserable people are such a pain, aren't they?