Not the Meaning of Life

To continue from my previous post, although not yet to discuss the point or lack thereof of life, I’ve also been dropping things. A lot. I pity the poor soul who lives downstairs from me: I don’t have carpets (brr, something must be done about this, pronto) and I do potter about, throwing things around without meaning to, quite early in the morning and late at night. Lids and spoons and pens and perfume bottles and various food items, etc. It’s raining stuff.

Also, this morning, for the first time in four years that I’m aware of, I got my dosage wrong. I still remembered to take my meds, but I was supposed to take half a pill today, which I realised immediately after swallowing a whole one. Luckily this should be relatively harmless but it did give me a bit of a stir. There seems to be something wrong with the autopilot and I should probably try and start paying attention to what I’m doing before I set fire to something by accident…


2 Responses to Not the Meaning of Life

  1. Tuomas says:

    Drink more tea, I say!

  2. sam says:

    Driven to distraction. I recommend velcro on everything.

Howl at the moon

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