Yesterday I got up, laid there for a sec to see if my head was still spinning (head, are you still spinning?), swung my legs over the bed and paused. <pause> <pause> <pause> Yep, thar she spins (madly on, for all you Weepies fans). “Must.fight.nausea,” I said to myself while reaching over to pick my softest jeans from the floor, quickly slipping my legs in all in one motion. You can do this. It’s not that bad. Pick something fuzzy, something soothing, something that…
A baked potato and a xanax, sir
December 8, 2015