Hello, are you feeling ok? Are youeating enough? Do you need anything?Can I get you anything?Areyougettingenoughwater?Are you . . .
I know, I know. I'm doing it again. It is a pain (especially to me), a pain in the hind quarters. And I don't mean in your back pocket.
I started with the mother hen thing (Helping) when I was depressed. When I succeded, I continued. It was getting me away from my ensessant depression. It has become a compulsion. Vertual vacations, advice, NAGGING, I know. I am becomming (????) a very intrusive carbunkle on the backside of the Galactic blue bird of happiness.
Hepl me before I hen again. (This is too muchfun). Don't pay attention to the man behind the curtain. I took too much medicine and I can't stop.
I am only partially serious. I am starting to get too involved. I'll try to stop, maybe the nagging/ soap box spewing. Another thing is creative cursing. Dragons breath and birds lips. Something I only see in my nightmares.
I am asking If you notice I am getting a bit . . .
well, you know what I mean. My latest medicine mistake is scarry. I need my doctor to help me get off Cymbalta. Withdrawl is a . . . I was going to say pain. Gargoyles toenails and Zuses trumpets.
I'm going to sleep.
My bs is too high. I'll be ok.
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