Beat it back

I slept OK last night, but I did have a dream right before I woke up. 

Crowley, the "King of Hell" in the TV series "Supernatural", was trying to "make a deal" with me.  Only one problem with that - in the series, when you made a deal you damned your soul to hell for eternity (unless you had "help"). 

I don't know whether I had just missed the show (haven't had a chance to watch in about a week), or God's trying to tell me it's spiritual warfare.  I just know I am mentally exhausted.  I feel like I'm in a long march, putting one foot in front of another, just trying to keep moving toward the goal.  So tired, I want to drop out, even if the guards do shoot me in the head. 

[sigh]  No, not suicidal, just weary. 

I did cut out a couple of supplements when I did up my medication.  No Dong Quai, which, while it has a reputation for helping anxiety, seems to cause it for me.  Of course they said "fish oil" was good and that was an epic fail for me.  I also got rid of the Cat's Claw.  It helped with some stiffness I had in my foot, but I'll take the stiffness if it means I can beat the anxiety.  Or at least beat it back. 

Today was hard, there's no way I can relate this without "whining". 

I got up, ate a light snack, took my antidepressant (!), and did my God Time.  I had a really hard time throwing myself in the shower, but I told myself I wouldn't have to shave my legs. 

My homemade cleanser did a very good job.  I will have to attack the shower enclosure with more, during my next mania. 

Happily, my legs were fine. 

I got dressed.  We were going to Arby's.  I like the Arby's right next to the dollar store. 

The employees, at work, adore the dish soap I've been bringing, and go through about 100 ounces a week.  I took in the last bottle yesterday. 

So, today I bought 16 more bottles of huge dish detergent, and also some other items.  I had a hell of a time lugging it all back to the restaurant. 

I think I alarmed the Arby's manager. 

We came home, I threw everything in the corner, took my medication (notice a theme?) and went to bed.  I slept for a couple hours.  I didn't have Torbie in the bed, but Biscuit slept in "his" spot on the floor. 

We discussed our plans for tomorrow (we have to do this every day).  Ron suggested we try a restaurant nearby (a basic takeout place).  Sounds good. 

Of course, tomorrow is truck day too so that ought to be interesting. 

I did have some drama this morning.  #6 has 6 kids, interestingly enough.  They have a 12 year old, an 11 year old, "Ike" (she was pregnant during the hurricane so I call him that) - 7 years old, a 5 year old, a 3 year old boy (from what I have seen the 3-4 year old boys get into the most trouble running wild), and the baby. 

Lately, whenever our paratransit pulls up in front of our house (the big vans parallel park in front of our driveway, completely on our property.  If the little boy is outside (the 3 year old), he RUNS into the street in front of the vehicle, as it's pulling up. 

The drivers are good, they stop, they honk, someone generally shows up and drags the kid out of the street, but this is ongoing.  Ron said maybe they don't want 6 kids anymore. 

Let me tell you what happened in my house, as a child, when the little kid ran into the street (my own memory, and what I witnessed with my younger step).  The kid was dragged out of the street and spanked within an inch of their life.  The parent told the child, very clearly, what would happen if they ever set foot NEAR the street, again, and generally finished it off with another smack on the butt for emphasis. 

I think that is appropriate.  I mean, these people are hyper protective of their kids.  They are only allowed to play with their cousins - not even the neighbors.  They are not allowed to go anywhere on their own (even the preteens), ride bikes, or even walk to the park. 

Why do they let their kids run in the street?  I don't get it. 

I'm writing this to help with documentation, SHOULD an accident occur.  I don't want #6 crying "The baby never ran in the street until yesterday". 

It happens FREQUENTLY.  Enough that I'm considering putting a warning note in the pickup notes for our house.