My father, myself

So here I am, an alcoholic. Taking a flight of pills (if you count the vitamin and advils) and it hits me that I've seemingly become my father. Well, let me back up...Sunday morning was spent cutting the grass, or attempting to do so. I ran over a beehive of sorts in the ground and got stung like seven times. Funny to watch, a pain in the ass to endure. Mostly because of the swelling in my legs.

So I come home from work Monday and my legs feel like fucking sausages. They don't look much better. My old man always had trouble with his legs. That's when it hit me. I am my Dad. This was perfect timing for such a painful revelation since I am also trying a new med and am on a diet. Great mix. Well, I went way off the diet last night just to maintain the rest of my faculties and not lose it.

The new med may be helping me focus, but the side effects simply are not worth the benefits that straterra might bring me. I've resigned myself to make do with welbutrin. My focus comes and goes with this stuff and it always keeps away the anxious andies.

Like you give a shit. But I have to put this somewhere.