The drugs have worn a tad thin today, due to my perhaps-no-so-unfortunate tendency to let myself conveniently 'run out' of the damn things every now and again.

The problem is that payback's a bitch, baby.

Still, I have noticed that in the several days of 'gap' I have perked up a bit, managed to get a whole shitload (or, as caliban and jb would say, two thousand assloads troy) of things done. My house is being painted. I scheduled a hardwood floor install. I coded some. I may have finally got off my ass and arranged to sell my bike so that the poor thing will get used.

It's quite fortunate that I have these things to do and make myself busy. Before the headaches and twitching set in, forcing me to procure more tonic, I watched myself move ever more frantically through my days. I began to lift my chin slightly, in an emotional sense, to make it more difficult to look down. My gaze became fixed on the horizon, for every time I became weary and faltered in my steps towards Zen Homeownership-Fu, I could sense (before seeing) the dark and sticky quagmire awaiting me down there. It has a peculiar sort of optical judo - if I slip up and actually rest my gaze on it, it can reach up through the insubstantial corridor of my vision, place strange pressures on my head, and then reach around my neck and without warning perform a judo flip. The back of my head always hits the emotional wall, and I end up lying on my back (usually on a park bench) watching fluttery stars in my vision through a haze of head pain.

So that didn't happen, this time. I think it's because I had enough tasks on my plate to keep my eyes level or fixed ahead. Then the headaches set in, and I swiftly went running for the shelter.

There is an upside to all this, however! The noticeable change in my mood means (to me) that I do need to work on finding alternate means of self-management, as the tinctures appear to be offering side effects that make me worse. There was almost a problem in Newton; rounding the corner from the T I came upon a group of older, well dressed polite protestors. They had placards with their views printed neatly on them, and didn't attempt to engage me in conversation, just held the sign out as I passed.

I became instantly fairly enraged, and began to think about how to draw one of them out enough to justify beating the ever-loving snot out of him/her. Then I looked across their ranks a tad closer, and realized (uncomfortably) that I actually agreed with nearly everything on their signs, and that they were simply and very unobtrusively exercising rights that I would fight to defend.

That, of course, made it worse, and the only means by which disaster was averted involving my slipping away to get a cup of coffee before my appointment.

But there is the spectre of the doom; a simple thing, an unobtrusive thing, a familiar thing - any and all can suddenly trigger fairly large mood swings. However, without experimenting, I'll never know how to live again.

Ah well. Ad Astra per Aspera, officers and men. Off we go.