Hmm. I seem to have written this post three weeks ago and failed to post it. Here it is, with commentary.
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Okay, I can handle getting a hard drive with all my recovered data on it (thank GOD) in the mail and then discovering that the drive itself is a dud so I have to wait even longer to accomplish anything because of course without several years’ worth of accumulated crap I am completely powerless to get anything done at all.*
And even after that happens I can handle going to my neighborhood pharmacy and finding out that my new insurance provider, which I had thought would be much, much better than my hideous old insurance provider, is actually much, much worse when it comes to what I actually need and does things like deciding that the amount of psychotropic medication it takes to keep me from throwing myself under a subway car is really more than I ought to have and that I’d be better off with, like, a third as much.**
But I have to say it would really have been nice if these things hadn’t happened immediately after I’d spent 45 minutes in therapy sobbing about how my entire life is a moral failure.***
*This turned out to be incorrect. I was just using the wrong plug for the drive, since evidently I am a moron.
**Three days after writing this I went back to my old hideous insurance company, so now I have all the drugs anybody could ever want.
***This is still a problem. But now that the writers’ strike is over I’ll be able to deaden my awareness of it by watching television every waking hour.
and in addition to said psychotropic medication, it goes without saying we’ve also ordered the equally-essential backup hard drive, right?
yeah, right.
Your reticences to meaningfully split infinitives and end a sentence in a preposition are regrettable, surely, but I wouldn’t say that they make your entire life a moral failure.
Well, not to your face, anyway.
mkf: Shockingly, the hard drive has been attached to the computer and backing up everything on it at 5:00 every morning for days.
TED: I don’t know the origin of the libelous claim that I won’t end sentences in prepositions, but it’s not something up with which I intend to put.
Well, two of these things are wonderful… As horrible as the old insurance may have been, at least they didn’t %$#@ with your dosages, which any psychiatrist will tell you is bad juju… Furthermore, self-identified computer ineptitude aside, things seem to be going swimmingly for you in the writing department… As for crying to your therapist, there’s bound to be a great deal of turmoil associated with your meds getting ^%$#ed with. Simply ride it out with the knowledge that most people who read this find you rather more than just peachy.
Oh please, if you weren’t a moral failure I’d never have started reading this blog in the first place.
ok, i’m torn.
on the one hand, i’m happy to know you’re now properly backing up, because god knows all this goodness should be preserved for posterity; on the other, i now have to wonder if perhaps this heretofore-unrevealed tendency to healthy self-preservation on your part is an indication that we’re not kindred spirits after all.
[and just so you know: because i’m neurotic (and presently more than a little shitfaced), the thing i always worry about when i venture to comment here–especially in light of the previous sentence (or, for that matter, this one)–is that said comment will be returned to me, corrected for grammar, syntax and construction, and marked with an “f.”]