My butt is getting sore sitting on the chair that’s in my closet office as I call it. Soon, this chair will be as comfortable as my other one because I’m getting the same gel cushion with the tailbone gap that Tom has.

I managed to sleep through the mowers. Tom said there were two stand-up mowers, one quieter than the other. The quieter one did this side of the street, and the louder one did the other side. I should sleep OK tomorrow too, because it looks like the weather will be clear.

We’re now trying the straps on the satin sheet to see if it holds it steady and prevents it from slipping and bunching. They crisscross underneath the mattress and clip onto the corners.

Now for the bad news. Yeah, I knew deep down the anxiety hadn’t really left me forever, and no, my story doesn’t have an end. It just doesn’t have as many bad times as it used to have. Tom thinks it’s connected to me being on nights. I took magnesium and a CBD gummy, but it didn’t seem to change how I felt. Hopefully, I’m not on the edge of a bad spell! If I’m still having anxiety at this point in my life, though, I’m probably going to have it all my life no matter what. It’s OK as long as I get some breaks from it. I just would have preferred more than three months.

Now I’m left to wonder about all the possible causes. Could it be that my body’s not used to having its TSH this low? If that’s the case, will it get used to it? Also. How long will this spell last? Days? Weeks? Months?

sighs with frustration Really, I don’t want to play this game again. I just don’t. In fact, I absolutely refuse to. Tomorrow I’m gonna wake up and I’m gonna feel fine all day. I really am.