If late night is not optimal prozac time, neither is first thing in the AM. I'm sitting here trying to either swallow or puke the damn things down before I have to drive out for a meeting with the social worker about Uncle John. My old bones are just not equipped to rising at 6 ish and functioning well.
Damn her for only having an 8 am appointment. What about ME, huh? What about MY needs? Why does the world insist that I do mornings when I am quite sure that no, thankyou, I really DON'T.
It's hard for me to be optimistic and grateful at 6 a.m. Hell, it's hard for me to get properly dressed at 6 am. And oh joys, tomorrow MORNING I get to go have a mammogram. I can't do this, I can't I can't I can't.
Yet, somehow, I will.