Feeling: useless
Listening to: Fiona Apple - Shadowboxer
Reading/Watching: Angel, s.4

I think it's post-medical-depression.

I've always been busy verging on hyperkinetic, especially during this part of the school year. Having two weeks off should be a blessing. I should be relishing my chance to sleep late, lounge on the couch, wear pajamas all day, make other people bring things to me, and above all, relax.

Right now, I'm so relaxed I'm practically comatose. It makes me want to jump off a building.

I need to get out of this apartment. I need appointments to get to, work to complete, people to see, problems to solve. I need to do something. Right now the highlight of my day was finishing off a ball of yarn for the scarf I'm knitting, and then going to get the mail.

Of course, in the mail was a bill from the Emergency Medical Service, covering the cost of the ambulance. $394 for them to buckle me onto a stretcher, drive one mile, and dump me at The Pit to be ignored for two hours until I left of my own accord. Truly a heroic task. I know it's much harder if I'm having convulsions, foaming at the mouth, bleeding from my ears, and trying to slit my wrists with an emory board, but really. They didn't even bother to spell my name correctly. They watched me climb into the ambulance, heard me say I was in the worst pain I've ever felt in my entire life, knew I had insurance (I showed them my card), and then took me to the worst hospital imaginable.

I'm mailing the bill to the insurance, so they can deal with it (or not), but right now I'm so piled-on with inaction that I want to scream. I need to get out of here. I need to take a long walk. I need to drive around town, looking at people living normal lives, except I can't, because I'm under doctor's orders to take it easy and let my gut finish knitting itself back together in peace and quiet.

I know this will be over soon. Only another week and a half, and I can go back to the world of assignments and make-up tests and crazycrazy, but in the meantime, I need a project. Maybe I should knit a blanket for a California-King-size bed. It would make a nice stocking-stuffer. (I could even knit the stocking.)

Grrrraaaarrrrgggh.

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