Little white magicians

It was Nanny Ogg or one of the Ephebean philosophers who said that a jar of marmalade now is no biggie while a promise of a jar of marmalade somewhere beyond the horizon keeps people going on and on and on.

In my case, it's the botanical expedition in May. Long time to go yet and meantime I need to watch the goddamn cold white stuff falling and to deal with people.

My shrink kept prescribing anxiolytics, just in case, and sleeping pills, just in case. I guess that my internal system is set to a day which lasts 24 hours and five minutes because after some time, I have problem falling asleep and a bit of zolpidem not only knocks me off but causes silly dreams (which I probably don't dare to publish. On the other hand, half of my traffic goes from a discussion server where they've already been mentioned. Maybe one day).

The job is stressful, the bunch of idiots filthy underlings employees try how far my nerves will stretch, or maybe they're just dumber than a box of rock, who knows, who cares.

I bought another plant book, I knit and I keep nomming chemicals. I suspect that it's rather the placebo effect than anything else as I hear that good old benzodiazepins work the best but they're somewhat addictive. Well, I think that an addiction is just a mild discomfort compared to the feeling that blood and brain matter is gushing out of my ears after having to listen to some idiotic whine over and over.