To be depressed. I don't have enough TIME to be depressed, and being depressed will lead to me having less time.
But I can feel it now, the sudden chemical tip into sadness, and the inability to turn it off, and I guess the adult thing to do is try to do something about it. WHY did my stupid doctor cut off my Paxil supply? Coming off the stuff is not the most fun I have ever had, you know.
So, call the doctor, and in the meantime realize what's probably wrong and keep moving my feet.
On the bright side, I FOUND THE KEYS this morning. As predicted by my mother, they were in a pocket. A weird side pocket of my coat on the wrong side of the coat--I have no idea how. Well, I have some idea how.
Did I mention that the school I have an interview with is forty minutes away from my house? As opposed to an hour and a half minimum?
I pried all the impacted bills and advertisements out of the mailbox, and brought them in.
And I have coffee.
Just keep swimming.
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