SIGH.

i've been sort of epicly failing at everything lately. i went to the doctor's last monday; there's nothing wrong with my lungs and she gave me two months worth of fluoxetine (more commonly known as prozac) for my mentalness and told me to come back in three weeks. though there was no suitable appointments in three weeks so i got one in four. though i'm going to have to move that too, cos the boss is off in ireland that day so i can't leave work early. meh. i've been eating the pills for six days now, not much change. i had a really horrible week at work too. i'm really sick of the place. i need to get the fuck out. i know this, yet i do fuck all about it. it's scary.

i got a bagful of shoes, handbags and other accessories (including a tiny blue camera!) for winifred in the post the other day. good times. and some zines. i've been working hard on YOUR PRETTY FACE #9 (split with telegram ma'am) i've got a bunch of stuff written, just need to make them pretty etc. which seems to be harder this time than it should be.

tomorrow i need to a) ring the doctor's to reschedule that damn appointment and b) ring the housing benefit lady to find out what the fuck is going on because i got a letter saying we need to pay them £79 of housing benefit they've overpaid us. does this mean we don't qualify anymore, cos previously they've just been taking it off the current benefits... sigh. i hate being grown up.

i just want to sleep forever.