Hiding.

Still in a bad mood, still depressed, still impatient, still indignant, still a bear to put up with. I’d frankly walk out on myself, were it an option.

The best damage control I can do is continue to avoid things that set me off, get my work done, go to bed early, and wait for the mood to pass. The Professor doesn’t quite get it, but how can I blame him when I don’t quite get it either? He’s trying to get me to post to our forum again, and has even gone so far as to start posting there himself, something he’s gotten out of the habit of doing recently. He’s made a point of telling me the worst rabblerouser is away on vacation, and it’s safe to come out of hiding again. I know it isn’t safe yet, though. Not when the slightest thing sets me off.

I’ve had increasing problems with asthma over the past two weeks. Sunday was the first day that I went over the maximum number of hits I’m allowed to take from my inhaler. After I finally got to sleep Sunday night (technically, Monday morning) I had a nightmare about being smothered by a black and red satin quilt. I have no idea where the black and red comforter comes in, but when I woke up, sure enough, I was having another asthma attack.

Actually, I do know where the black and red quilt comes in, but that’s more information than I’m willing to put in an open entry.

My net-friend from Norway arrives this evening. It’s a shame the weather isn’t better. With luck things will clear up tomorrow sufficiently to be able to show her whatever sights she’d like to see. I’m going to have to pull myself together enough to be on my best behavior. At least the apartment is clean again. Nothing like a string of houseguests to encourage apartment tidiness.

And now it’s time to crawl back under my rock again.