I know that in the grand scheme of things, these are just minor annoyances. My strawberry milkshake philosophy still holds true. But I still don't have my car back, and it keeps costing me more money, and I have no idea if they're totally fucking me over.

Yesterday I was at Probst's house, and we had a little Buffy-watching party. By the time it was over, I realized I was having another gallbladder attack. They only happen every six months or so now, but they are horrible. The pain is unbelievable.

My friends are wonderful. Franka and Probst each gave me all the cash they had, so I could take a cab home (or to the hospital, if I chose). I decided to go home-- if you have to be miserably sick, it's much better to be miserably sick at home. And my guess was, the doctor wouldn't be able to do anything anyway.

I did call the 24 hour number to talk to a nurse, who confirmed that I wouldn't die, and wouldn't need emergency attention, but I should make an appointment with my doctor ASAP. By the time I got off the phone, I felt better.

For a few minutes.

And then it came back again, and it was so horrible that I decided to make myself throw up. Do you have any idea how much I hate throwing up? But I threw up, for an hour, until I was sure my stomach was empty. And yet, I didn't feel better.

At that point, I was delirious with sleep. It was about two thirty in the morning and I had been tired all day. I was ready for bed at five o'clock. But when you're in that much pain, you can't sleep.

So I tossed and turned for at least an hour or two. I was too tired to do anything but lay in bed, and in too much pain to sleep. So I was in that half state between sleeping and waking, just weeping with pain and frustration. I seriously wished for death. I mean, I was laying there thinking death would not be so bad.

The short version? It sucked.

I guess I just ate too much fat yesterday-- and thinking back, I remember having avocado for both lunch and dinner, in addition to some other stuff with fat in it. Cheese, mayo, sour cream. I was totally overcompensating for not having eaten the night before. But I overdid it, obviously, and paid the price.

I won't be doing that again.

I guess I haven't written about my weekend, have I? I flew to Los Angeles to see the fam and my friends-- and the new house.

Well, the house is fabulous. I envy my sister, since she got to convert the pool room into her own little apartment. That room has a neat bar in it, which is now Abby and Ash's kitchenette. They also have their own bathroom. And the pool is right outside the door! The whole house is super cute.

My family and friends are also good, and I got to see Bruce, Matthew and Charlotte for the first time in quite a while. We went and saw Zoolander, which was hysterically funny. And we had a family party, where I got to see assorted family people whom I haven't seen in a while. Oh, and I got to see Lucy's adorable goddaughter, who just turned one.

The traveling part of the trip was kind of a pain in the ass, especially since I didn't have a car and ended up having to lug my luggage (heh) all over the world. But the trip was good.

If I sound tired and out of it, it's because I am. I had a bunch of dreams that really fucked me up last night-- both good and bad dreams that fucked me up in completely different ways. And of course, I am tired. And I have tons of stuff to do, which is frustrating.

I just want to get everything under control. I want normalcy. I want a clean room, enough money to pay my bills, and an afternoon of studying at Starbucks.

And I want my goddamn car back.

"My intellectual equal. I need someone who stimulates my intellect. Period. I could never date some vapid pretty person. There is no bigger turn on for me than a brilliant person (hence my misguided adoration of Tim for all those years). I like to learn from people, and I love the zingy rapport that comes with talking to a smart person. I'm getting emotionally erect just thinking about it."