suspicious package

Yesterday I had a nine hour shift after three days off, and ---there's no other word for it---work was restorative, kind of like how a drink would be to Bertie Wooster.

Somewhat boring, a little exhausting, but all together GOOD. By the end of the day I was back on the beam, feeling human, humble but not humiliated.

And it was a beautiful day with the sun still at its day angle when I clocked out. Still my day to enjoy, and I was rich.

Got home. Monsieur Président Charlie was speaking on the pheaun with some drunken bomb, who wants to join our clerical order. I scowled and he held up a finger, to wait or go get f*ed or something.

And then what do you know, there was a package for me. From my psychiatrist I write to when I have my emergencies, twenty times a day. Ah, from Boca Raton! Or wherever she supposably lives that sounds like that, down south. This lovely woman I can never repay, except by referring more people to her to humor.

Lately I have been explaining to her all about my dreams which make not sense! And describing these spots I see sometimes, in just enough detail so she might diagnose what is wrong with me.

Sometimes she goes on vacation but that never matters, she is an internet imaginary after all, is all. Except for this...

Possibly a bum? If so, I'm sure it will explode in colorful confetti, with lots of love and understanding. But I think I will not open it until after a klonopin. Plus I would like some witnesses gathered around close to witness my joy, and know that I have important friends in the Southern Upper Class.

I had Moise and Murph come in to help open it. Moise was all excited and the packing peanuts flew high just as I imagined the explosive confetti might. The doctor did say it would be fun, and that I'd laugh. I kept asking is it some sort of sexual libido meter toy? What is it, Moise?

She laughed. "Prescription mugs! For all your prescriptions that make you so nice!"

Ah, yes. She'd told me that one of her drug salesman was there a few days ago. Described how he walked, even. (Why? Because her office building was recently flooded and now they've removed the carpet but not the carpet glue, so every unsuspecting soul who enters has to adjust after doing an initial Silly Walk.) Ah, so.

Coffee mugs to remind me to take my pills! My pills which are the secret to my success in sobriety! My pills which cause me to forget to take my pills!

I love my doctor. When she retires I'm going to write all about her, and she tells me she is retiring soon! Moving away to someplace where they have no internets.

It is twenty minutes since I've last written her about my latest emergency. She may be with a patient, she may be lecturing her boss (who is NOT HER BOSS, she says).

Thank you, Patricia. I am using the Seroquel one now. Yeah yeah yes of course, I washed it first as you politely, obliquely suggested off-handed as a suggestion.