The Mast Cell Block Tango

  Still here in Bumblefuck, Louisiana in the haunted doll manse. I'd thought I could relax and paint today but alas I have to clean the joint so that the realtor can take photos tomorrow and list the house on Monday. I'll probably be at a nine on the art pain scale by the time I finish. My paintings may be heckin' weirdorama. You may not do this, but I do - I follow a pile of doctors that treat MCAS. I don't have that permutation. They have renamed what I have to systemic mastocytosis. It's the weird intense cousin of MCAS. But there is frequently something of value that can be gleaned from MCAS doctors. Yesterday I finally had the freakin' light bulb go off over my head when one of the doctors talked about something apparently many MCAS and others do. Feel better at night and stay the heck up all night long.   If I'm not in the bed by about 9 pm or 9:30 pm, washed, brushed, drugged with book in hand, I'm up all night. This has turned into a significant ...

  I am in small town bumblefuck Louisiana and I am out of spoons. Angry stupid neighbors. Oodles of possessions I do not want. We've been gutting Mom's house of her possessions  and between the stirred up dust from going through the boxes in the dining room, and having to bag up her clothing for the thrift shop I am so freaking exhausted. Plus very asthmatic. Running out of drugs I'll need to go to urgent care I guess seeking refills. What I really need is a few days rest in bed, but it's not happening. As soon as the house is listed we're leaving for the kids house, driving Mom's car to my daughter, rolling up 95 stopping here and there. I hope I survive this trip and the house sale.