The last month has been a blur. A severe cold turned to severe allergies turned to a terrible cough (or perhaps it was the allergies that started it all?) and I wound up on every over-the-counter cold and allergy medication on the market the week before Easter. I was sick throughout my week-long vacation, but it was fun anyway, and I purchased yarn and quilting supplies - what could be better? However, only in the last few days has the coughing started to wear down, and that’s only because I dove into the bottle of Singulair I had from the last time I had these bronchial spasms. The inhaler the doctor prescribed me this time just didn’t do the trick. Neither did the Mucinex, Robatussin, or codeine syrup (which also, amazingly, did not knock me out like I wanted). Sleep has finally found me again, though I still nap far too much and do a whole lot of staring blankly into space instead of something more productive - say, knitting.

While I’m bitching, let me just say that I’d been suffering some odd hand aches, but that, too, is disappearing, thank the gods. So, with life finally getting back on track, I’ve started to knit again (that was generally on hold due to the severe craptasticness I felt - knitting while feeling tired, crappy, sniffly, and/or achy is nothing but a recipe for disaster over here) and finished a new kitty hat and the first of my bright daffodil colored entrelac socks (pictures coming soon).

All going well, right?

Not so fast, cowgirl. My brother, 23, is depressed - suicidally so - and my mother is stressed out beyond stressed out. My cat had urinary tract infection and requires a second trip to the vet sometime soonish so they can check his urine again to see how the disgusting and horribly expensive special food they put him on is working. A close friend is having a personal crisis (to say the least!) and we were just hit by a sudden snowstorm - the *only* such snowstorm to hit this winter, really, except for a small one that hit while I was away.

On top of all that, in the last seven days, I have broken three dishes, destroyed a perfectly good breakfast, and had some delicious hot cocoa that was (much to my horror, as I spit out something odd feeling during those first few sips) INFESTED WITH BUGS.

Nothing like a little insect larvae in your mouth to fucking ruin your day already. And there’s a photo, for ye who told me you’d never seen these horrendous things. It’s a large photo - the real thing is much smaller, but no less disgusting to eat.

Now tell me… who the hell have I pissed off, and how many chickens should I sacrifice to get rid of this curse?