Mondaying

It's late Monday evening and I'm just now getting dinner cooked for Sprout.  Macaroni and cheese, if you'rs wondering.  I think the girl could happily eat it every day.  Hot dogs go well with it, in her mind, but not tonight.  Not home made, she spurns that...nope, nothing but the blue box for my kiddo.

The Evil Genius is spending a few days with his dad.  I always miss him when he's away, but it's also kind of peaceful, and he has fun with his father, and it's probably for the best that he's not here right now because I'm not well.

I had such terrific plans for this Monday, but things started going south last night and just kept on going this morning.

My right eye started to hurt last night.  Just out of the blue, this kind of stabbing throb.  When I gently touched my eyelid, it felt like my whole eyeball was bruised.  It doesn't look bruised.  It looks just like an eye.  Eventually I realized that the OUCH! mostly came when my eye was adjusting to more light - when I looked at my phone or computer screen, walked into a room with more lights on, that sort of thing.  Since I usually sit in the dark, that wouldn't seem to be a problem, but...I sit in the dark at my computer, and I couldn't look at the screen without feeling that stab-throb.

No idea what caused it, I figured I'd just go to bed and get on with Monday when it came.  I had plans that included baking cookies, hauling my trash to the dump, and a friend coming over and doing some plumbing for me.

The best laid plans, right?

My eye hurt in my sleep.  In my sleep!

All morning I had to sit with my eyes closed because keeping them open meant adjusting to sunlight, which bloody hurt.

My friend came and did the plumbing, and I called Mom to see if she could help me with the dump run because I didn't think I ought to drive.  Bless her, she drove down and did  most of the work because my stomach decided to rebel and...er...never mind what.  I didn't mean for her to have to deal with all that grossness, and I appreciate that she stepped in and spared me the horror.

On top of all that, like a really awful cherry perched atop a garbage scented, barf flavored, eye pain sundae, was the depression which just laughed and laughed and reminded me that this is as good as I get to have it why I will be alone for the rest of my life because who would want me, all stove up and constantly struggling?

Stupid depression.  Shut up.

I gave up on the day and crawled into bed a little after the dump run, fell asleep, and pretty much stayed that way until just before eight o'clock when I woke up and realized that I really should fix dinner for Sprout.  Luckily she's pretty handy in the kitchen and got herself some snacks while I was in a coma slept.

To hell with depression, I will cook dinner for my kid.  Good thing she's easy!  Once she's fed, cuddled a bit, and in bed, I'm crawling back into my bed because I don't feel like taking on whatever Monday has left for me.  I'll eat tomorrow...or the next day...

How're you doing?