What do you mean, it’s not Sunday?
Apr. 10th, 2016 08:12 amI’ve not been doing a whole lot, other than fucking around on deviantART and trying not to freak out. My appointment is on Tuesday, and, uh. I’m kinda freaking out. I’m in that place where I’m not sure if I’m more afraid of the diagonisis, or if it comes back as another question mark. I’ve been doing almost literally nothing the last few days, and I feel absolutely fine for it. But the second I start doing any amount of anything at all, I start to regret it.
The result of this has been so much monotony that I went all day today thinking it was Sunday, and that Robin Hood would be home tomorrow. I told him to pick up some cheese and sauce, and I’d make him a pizza when he got home.
Except. Today was Saturday. Which, you know, I think I knew that. Because I went down to get the mail, and actually found mail down there. My god, I’m going nuts. Help.
Crossposted from WordPress. http://ift.tt/1RM4k1v

The result of this has been so much monotony that I went all day today thinking it was Sunday, and that Robin Hood would be home tomorrow. I told him to pick up some cheese and sauce, and I’d make him a pizza when he got home.
Except. Today was Saturday. Which, you know, I think I knew that. Because I went down to get the mail, and actually found mail down there. My god, I’m going nuts. Help.
Crossposted from WordPress. http://ift.tt/1RM4k1v
