Hanging In

I emailed my doctor this morning, telling her that I was concerned that Wellbutrin and I don't really have much of a future together. I'm just waiting on her reply, now. And a pharmaceutical knight in shining armor to scoop me up and take me away from all this.

But lemme tell ya...When you're already cranky and angry and headachy and tired, fasting? Not so much fun. I made it though (with the exception of the small glass of water I took with my Wellbutrin Sunday night), but I wasn't a particularly happy camper. Or even a sullen camper. I was an outright snarling, nasty camper, to be honest. Though I kept most of the snarling quiet and to myself, if you ignore the snide little asides I threw at various congregants and guests at services yesterday. That's something, right?

Somewhere up in the heavens--or wherever they may be--an incorporeal God is sighing and rolling his/her genderless eyes at me. I know, dude. I know. I'm trying, really I am.