At just a little over five hours into my sleep, I had a horrible nightmare. In the dream, we got a prescription for my thyroid medication but they gave us too many pills. Not wanting to waste the money I thought I would suck on the “extras” for a few minutes, as funny as I know that sounds. After who knows how many “extras,” I realized that I might be in big trouble heart-wise and that I might even die because I had sucked on too many. 

Unfortunately, this nightmare came right after watching a case of this guy who killed his wife while they were sleepwalking, and I couldn’t help but remember the two times in the trailer that I picked up the little notebook I used to keep by the bed, and then somehow managed to tear out a few pages before placing the notebook back on the shelf all without waking myself up. So naturally, I started getting paranoid and thinking what if… what if in my sleep (even though I’ve never been known to ever get out of bed), I downed some pills! 

I got up and peed and saw that clearly none of my pills had been touched nor did I have a weird taste in my mouth. I was still freaked out enough about it to Skype Tom. I wished he had been home to verify that he hadn’t seen me going to the kitchen in my sleep even though I figured as much anyway. 

After 10-20 minutes passed and I realized I would probably be dead by then if I had acted out my dream, I relaxed enough to fall back asleep. I just would have preferred to get up an hour and a half earlier than I did. 

Tom still has a cold and was crashing when I was getting up so I didn’t get to see much of him. I showered, ate, threw on a load of laundry, checked in with people online, took my daily Dutch lesson, and then I went out for a walk. It was beautiful even though it was dark and slightly chilly. I missed being able to go out there alone without fear. My heart behaved, however. I only made two rounds around the circle in 10 minutes but it’s a start towards venturing out on my own the longer I go without incident. I think that once I pass the one-year anniversary of when I first ran into trouble with the levothyroxine, I will totally have it made. Just a little chest pain afterward, but I can't say whether it's connected to my heart or not. It could’ve been a lung or a muscle. It’s a concentrated, sharp cramp-like pain towards the left. It’s kind of above my breast but a little closer to the center of my chest than the center of the breast itself. 

They’re talking about working Saturdays and Tom and I aren’t the least bit thrilled with this idea despite the fact that the money would be absolutely insane. The thing is that right now we need more time, not more money. But since the other employees there make so little, they’re all excited about the idea of the extra money. 

Once upon a time, we had no money but plenty of free time. Now it’s just the opposite. Money is wonderful, but when you have no life to go with it, it gets a little old. There is still so much we want to do around the house, but who knows when we will have the time? Some of it I can do myself, but some things we want to do together. We prefer to work out together, for example, no matter how I’m feeling. But sometimes our schedules clash, or he gets sick, or he gets backed up in sleep and so I am on my own. 

For now, I am so glad that the weather is warming up so that I can be outdoors more often whether I’m working out or not. Unless I have an appointment I’m usually only out on weekends, so being able to be outdoors more often keeps me from getting cabin fever even if I am a homebody and I love our big beautiful home. 

Later… 

Oh my god, this is so fucking funny! There was what I would describe as a “likable bitch” that I once knew on the old Kiwibox site about seven years ago (Amber). She was a rude, mean bully, but at the same time, she was actually a bit intelligent and mature for what was then a very young age. I remembered her first name and that she loves to rescue feral cats. Yeah, she was a strange one. She would treat people like shit but she sure loved animals. She would probably want to kick the crap out of me if she knew just what I sometimes fantasize about doing to Cappy. Really I’m sick of his timid, spastic nature! 

Anyway, I Googled her name plus the words “feral cats” and was able to learn her last name. I always knew it began with an S, but that was all I knew. I couldn’t resist contacting her and slipping her the link to my blogger blog. Maybe she’ll want to reminisce a bit and read around some of the 2008 journals I have stored there, LOL.