I hate having to go to the doctor. I have never really been shy about this, but fuck, man I hate going to the doctor. Do you know what I hate even more than going to the doctor? Going to the doctor for a thing I am virtually certain doesn’t exist. However, as many of you will no doubt sweetly chide me about later, you have to jump through all the hoops they tell you to in order to get the things you think might work.

Sleep study. This will be my second one. I will not sleep well. Not because of the wires wrapped around me, the EEG leads in my hair or any of that. No, I will not sleep well because I can guarantee it will not be as cold in that room as I need it to be in order to sleep. When I say cold, well, it is an oft-lamented thing by those who have graced me by sharing my bed that I may like it a little colder than the average person as I am drifting off to sleep. Ir, I mean, a lot colder than most people think of. I woke up this morning with the covers thrown to the floor and the temperature reading 59 if that gives you any indication as to what I am talking about.

I am also listening to Christmas music on repeat because I am a massive fan of Charlotte Church and her voice calms me down when I need to be calmed down and, well you guessed it, I also get all kinds of panicky when I have to leave my kids overnight. I can count on the fingers of one hand, minus the thumb, how many times I have done that since Naomi died. I am not worried about their safety or anything, I am their Dad, and it is my job to be there when they wake up in the morning. I know this all stems from my rampant abandonment issues with my parents and a need to be the parent that doesn’t do the things, but it is still a thing.

I have written a lot lately, nor will I, until the little people go back to school and I get myself back on a routine of some sort. I can’t write when I am here with them alone because I need to listen to music when I write and I can’t very well watch them and listen to the soundtrack from Saw on repeat now, can I? This morning, for reasons I am not quite sure about, the Elder Duck’s school has decided to give him a four day weekend so that means I can write this morning. They make him go to school before Labor Day, but they don’t make him go all the days he can? Why bother at all?

Coffee is being consumed, although not too much of course, and then I will go about the things of the day I suppose, even if I want to do those things as much as I want to be poked int he eye with a sharp stick.


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