mental elevator

Sometimes I'm bouncing up and down in my chair, just happy to be. Other times I'm glassy eyed and want only to write a fake note from mom to my boss and crawl into bed for the next three or four years. And lately those two extremes are in the same half hour.

That's exactly what I need right now, to be manic. At least depression was predictable. And not near as expensive. I get paid next friday and I have to make $24.17 last. And between now and then I'll have therapy and a drug refill and at least one grocery run. Mom is coming up tomorrow morning and we're going to Guthrie. That will be good for a tank of gas since I'll insist on driving. She'll treat me to at least 2 meals before she goes back home. A part of me wants to ask for money, rationalizing that I've only asked for money once in the 10 years I've been on my own. Another part says no, I'm 28, employed and responsible and if I do, it's akin to moving back home with a dead-beat boyfriend in tow.

I have deleted what I just typed since it further explains and complains about my finances. I won't depress or continue to bore you.