Fly Away Thursday

At least I think that’s when it began.
Sometime in the middle of the night when Tiny Mystery occurred.
I was fast asleep.
And stayed fast asleep through whatever happened.
But when I awoke, after I had had my mug of espresso, reached for my blog, and started scribbling whatever I had to say that moment –
That’s when I got around to looking at myself.
That took a while.
(Actually longer than a while …
Took forever to get my head out of the clouds that morning.) –
That’s when I looked down at myself –
Something must’ve not felt right cause I kind of shrugged.
Something wasn’t on right.
And that’s when I saw my top was on backwards!
Strange.
Cause I didn’t remember going to sleep with it that way on.
Thought about it for a little bit.
But kept on going to the next task in …
My Guide To Waking Up Each Day
OMG!
It’s almost time for my meeting!
20 minutes still.
Surely I can keep track of that, right?
Anyway I could mess that up?
Absolutely.
They worked on me for 1:15 minutes.
They rearranged me several times and ended up pasting sticky notes all over me with specific times and dates of the challenges I faced ahead of me.
There were many.
More than I could ever meet.
A big challenge lay ahead of me.
I drove to the Whole Foods at the Inner Harbor.
Replaced the damaged Buddha Bells I bought yesterday and zipped out of there without any further incident.
(Last night I was blasting Joy Division as I pulled up the hill at the Whole Foods parking lot. It was working fine. The cars ahead me had no problems. The mechanism to issue a ticket failed when I got there. They tried to fix it and they couldn’t. So they opened the gate and gave me carde blanch to make sure I got out of there.)
When I returned, the oldest man (there were 3 total, trying to figure out why the ticket dispenser had failed) was still there – the one I don’t remember – and he grinned when he saw me, and did a thumbs up!
I had no idea why.
But I smiled anyway.
Cool.
I blasted the music on the shitty Smart speakers on the ride back home, whistling all the way back.
On the way back I kept losing the stickies. (I was looking pretty frail according to Sticky Standards)
I ended up at my local Starbucks, by Hopkins. Where all the crazies go –
That’s when I looked down at myself – And from there wings sprouted and I flew away.
The biggest mystery of the day, however, was how I managed to wake up with my shirts (sweat and tank top) on backwards.

BORROWING: Breaking Down Concepts Into Simple Conversations

SUGAR MODEL

PROBLEM

One person has bought and filled a canister with sugar. Another person starts using that sugar. When the sugar supply gets low, the supplier tells the borrower, they will have to replace what they have used. The borrower agrees to do this. The supplier fills the canister with the sugar remaining in the 4 pound bag in the kitchen cabinet, which now has 1/4 sugar. Then supplier is uncertain about the amount of sugar in the canister. It’s not filled to the top, but it’s not empty, either. In fact, the supplier cannot remember how much sugar is in the canister. And has already forgotten that the bag is no longer in the cabinet, but in the garbage.

One morning, concerned that the vital sugar supply to sweeten the daily mug of espresso is dangerously, the supplier checks the cabinet and discovers the bag is no longer in there. Feeling threatened, the supplier moves the canister from the kitchen to a safe place.

The borrower bangs on the supplier’s door the next morning, waking up the supplier, angry and upset, that there is no sugar in the kitchen.

CONVERSATION

(BORROWER) Where’s the sugar!
(SUPPLIER) The supply was dangerously low, so I moved the canister.
(BORROWER) But I replaced what I had borrowed!
(SUPPLIER) When you have replaced what you have borrowed and continue borrowing from the same pot, then you have not replaced what you have borrowed.

Up, Up and Away!

Had a really good time with my buddies, George and Sarah, yesterday in Rockville. He’s going to take me to Ocean City so we can just walk along the shoreline. We haven’t managed to work that out yet. We’ve been talking about it for a while, but now he understands it’s urgent to get me there, so we’re waiting for a good day (weather, no rain) to go there on a Sunday, Monday or Tuesday (his days off). Sarah (later) bought me two sketchbooks, cause I’m running out of paper, and we had this really (earlier) palatable (I can’t seem to handle meat, anymore) meal, something with fresh spinach and cheese melted and wrapped in a crepe. It took forever for me to order. I asked the guy very detailed questions about the menu selections, while trying to select something, make a decision.

Why are decisions sometimes so difficult?
But I did it!

And then, I needed more coffee, before I drove back to Baltimore, so Sarah went home and George and I went back to Starbucks for two shots of espresso. While they were making my coffee, the barista said (not to me): “The truck’s here.” to her coworker, in a funny way, and I looked outside and saw a semi, and I asked if the truck had coffee, and she said, “Yes.” And I said, “I wanna get on that truck!” And she laughed.

So George and I sat outside, while I drank my coffee, and the trucker had unloaded lots of stacked boxes, which were on a crate, and they were just sitting there, and I said to George, “Let’s hijack the truck!” (Not seriously). And he started laughing and said, “That would be really bad for your divorce case right now. And I’ve worked so hard to get stable (George has the greatest manic stories in the world! I was laughing so hard, I ended up on the floor, when he first told them to me.) it would be really bad for me too.” But he still thought it was funny. (And, tempting.) But the boxes just sat there. Filled with coffee beans.

Luckily, I had emailed Dr K when we first sat outside, and told him, I may be Hypomanic, but I wasn’t sure. And I think we need to increase my Trileptal. But he didn’t email me back until 2:00 AM. (I’ll get to that part soon.). So George asked me if I was okay to drive back, and I told him how much I love driving at night and cranking the music up, and that I would be okay.

So it was, like 9:00 PM.
And the boxes were still there!

And then the driver (he had been doing other stuff) was there too, and I asked if there was coffee in those boxes, and he said, “Yes.” And I said, “I want some!” And he said, “Which one do you want?” And I said, “French Roast, please.” Well, I didn’t get any. And I realized, I answered his question incorrectly. The Smart was a few feet away, and I should’ve said, “I want all of them. See the Smart, there? Just stack the entire block of 60 boxes on the roof, and I’ll be on my way.” Still, we had a lot of fun. As soon as I got home, I increased my Trileptal by 150 mgs, and the oddest thing happened. Within an hour, all the tension in my shoulders had vanished, the headache I had been battling since morning sprinted away, and I felt level!

Not normal.
Never normal.

Well, Dr K wrote me back at 2:00 AM, and I told him what I had done (With the meds. Didn’t dare tell him about the events leading up to the increase of meds.). Went back to sleep, and saw he had written back to me, and told me to keep the Trileptal at 500 mgs, not above, and divide it into 2 doses, morning and night. But I have no explanation for Giddy Attacks.

Fuck!
Oh, well.
George to the Rescue!
Once again.