Random observations

I have cold. That nasty cold that blocked my nose for the night and I couldn't really sleep. Weren't it for my mom who called at 1008 to ask how I am, I'd be probably dozing off until now.

I made it to the 1030 doc appointment, though. I can act fast when it's needed and if it's not for too long.

Doc said that her qualification ends at 20mg of citalopram and that if I need more, I need to see a psychiatrist. I shrugged, thinking something unhappy, while she started naming local shrinks. Since I'm having depressions and related fun since I was around 16, and since this is a small town, good part of them were on the blacklist, such as Dr. Whatever, who didn't have any better idea than telling my mother, without my approval or knowledge, although I was legally sane and of age. Or Dr. So-and-so who is just a generalized jerk. Dr. Whatshisname who gave me antipsychotics for sick stomach, I wonder whether this dearie goes fishing with dynamite.
The problem is that I'm smart. I might be a blonde with painted nails but that doesn't mean I'm a brainless Barbie, puh-leeze. To illustrate what happens: it was a psychologist but the story is too cute. She showed me the Rorschach test images and asked me to tell her what do they remind me of. Vertebra, another vertebra, lumbar vertebra, alien vertebra, vertebra with some soft tissues attached... erm, are you okay, doc? Doc muttered something about morbid thoughts and how bad it is. If she had asked Why vertebrae?, I'd answer Yanno, I'm learning to draw. Anatomical drawings. After anatomy atlas, volume I, bones.
And nope, I have no clue what's so morbid about vertebrae. Also, I have no clue why the psychoworkers don't even suspect that the clients might be thinking creatures.
I spread the word, I still hold hope that there are thinking shrinks somewhere out there in the world.

To add insult to injury, herpes started to grow on my lip.

A bit of shameless bragging: I made a good geometric sketch for a sweater knit entirely on bias. Now I need to try whether it works in real.

Life sucks, why?

Fashion tip of the day

If you use long pins to hold your hair, it is extremely recommendable to pull further clothing items over your head very carefully. The resulting mess of hair, sweater and hair accessories is rather difficult to disentangle, especially if your arms are already in the sweater.

And I did use knitting needles, yes, why. I couldn't find anything handier without rummaging in the drawer. But I'm led to wonder where I could find pretty hairpins - maybe I could use the KnitPro Symfonie double point needles in coloured laminated wood?

Just... just...

I acted totally studip today and also totally studip sociophobic chickenshit way. Not that the latter surprised me but in the circumstances, it almost made me cry.

I decided to do something productive and decided that taking the trash to the bins would be the thing. So I packed up that box of used nappies K. left here, bag of kitchen trash, another bag of plastic and a handful of milk cartons and while trying to get through the door without dropping any of these, I grabbed the keys, slammed the door at attempt three, went out and noticed that although I have keys, it's not the set with blue keyring with a red diode light, two big keys and a small one for the mailbox but just two big keys that however did vaguely look like the right ones. I turned around and went to try but vaguely looking right doesn't mean looking right.

I went to throw away the trash hoping for a miracle or something.

I live on the ground floor. After having the place burglarized and after my flatmate lost the cat through the window (story omitted but it makes my blood boil years after), I just don't keep the windows open when I'm not around, which may mean not in the room, depending on the momentary paranoia level. No, I don't have a yard where I could keep the spare keys in a birdhouse. No, I don't have a car parked around the corner with spare keys taped to the inside of the bumper. Since I went with the trash, I didn't take such useful things as my celly or some money. J. has the keys and should be somewhere around but I have no clue where, he was due to arrive yesterday evening but I haven't heard from him.

I sat on the stairs and pondered about the possibilities. The obvious one, ring the doorbel to any random neighbour and explain the situation via the intercom, asking them to let me in and to let me use their phone to call a locksmith was just impossible. Like, making-me-sick-to-think-of-it impossible. I decided to wait for something to happen because nothing can be worse than talking through the intercom to someone whom I barely know and who has hardly any idea who I am.

A while later a lady I rememered vaguely having seen before was arriving, she said Hello, are you waiting for someone? and then I said Yeah, well, I locked myself out... etc.

I called a locksmith, got the door opened, paid him what was to be my food budget for two weeks and decided that trash is not that bad house company after all.

Also, I am stupid.

Edited to add this cool graph that explains just about anything:
. I needed a bitter grin with my late morning coffee.