I feel bad about stressing my system with 3-4 clemastine (generic Tavist) a day, but it's either that or forgo sleep and become even crankier from not being able to breathe. Anyway, enough of that. You don't care about my mucus and I'm tired of it.
Amy hasn't gotten photos done for an engagement announcement in the local paper yet, so I took a few shots of them yesterday. I'll share the best shot after she's approved the editing.
Himself has been up and down the hill all weekend. He's currently off to Cliff's for the fourth time since Friday, now claiming he's selling him the spare mini-ATX board we bought last year. I don't really care anymore, but I'm glad he took Laurel since he slept until 1540 today and I'm sick of dealing with her today.
I am perversely amused by the FDA ruling to include warnings about increased risk of suicidal thoughts on SSRIs. It makes me wish I actually had any memories from when I was on them, except that I'm probably better off without those months of my life since they were apparently pretty miserable.