There's an underground station in... Taiwan(?- somewhere that's like China, but isn't China, anyway) that's trying to get people using stairs instead of escalators (I love the word escalator. It sounds all space-agey) by making the stairs musical. Sort of like, if you imagine the giant floor piano that films always show, the one in FAO Schwarz, but as STAIRS. Magic. The BBC just did a human interest news jobby thing about the Taiwan (let's just call it Taiwan) stairs and I have decided that I want musical stairs more than anything in THE WHOLE WIDE WORLD. When I was Anorexic, I was a stair climber. I'd get home, eat an apple and then run up and down the stairs 100 times. I have NO desire to go back to that and so I'd LIKE to tell you that I'd like musical stairs to prevent me from doing. Sort of like a cat with a bell collar, so it doesn't kill birds- I wouldn't want to draw attention to what I was doing and so if the stairs were musical I wouldn't compulsively ascend and descend. That would, quite honestly, be utter bullshit. Exercise? Pfft! But maybe I can use that and get musical stairs on the NHS? I'll write to all the political parties and get their opinions. The party that will give me the stairs will get my vote. I'll wait until they're installed, before I tell Momma Ginge.
That story has just got 'London Underground' in my head ('Don't tell me to mind the gap, I WANT MY FUCKIN' MONEY BACK. London Underground, London Undergound. They're all lazy fuckin' useless cunts...') but that's ok, it makes me think of our Lily and that makes me happy.
There's another excellent story of the news today- baseball was ACTUALLY invented in southern England. Um, yeah, duh, but we call it rounders and it's a kid's game and we don't piss around with all the armour, because the English are well 'ard. It's like American football V Rugby. We're hard and they're pretty.
I'm feeling pretty good today, and it kind of bothers me. I think what it is is, I feel like a fraud. I saw my psychiatrist (well, actually I didn't. I saw A psychiatrist, not my usual one) on Monday and he wanted me on an anti-depressant, as well as my Seroquel, because I'm a bit of a mess- I've rarely got out of bed recently because I am too anxious. I refused (I actually hate taking meds. Apart from antibiotics, of course. Hahaha), but I could see, logically, why it might be a good idea. My GP extended my sick note indefinitely yesterday, because 'it's obvious it's going to be a while yet, before you're ready to work, and this will be one less worry for you'. But I feel... fine, right now. Logically, it's been probably less than 24 hours since I started feeling 'fine' and it seems ridiculous to be obsessing about it, but it's hard to know what to do with it. It's also difficult knowing that the REASON I feel 'fine' is probably just that I weigh less than I have done in maybe about 3 months. Am I that shallow?
I need to stop obsessing, I am far too obsessive. If I listed even half of my obsessions, you would be utterly lost. Like... I am going to get dressed and go buy a newspaper and some Coke Zero now, but I need to time it- to work out how long it will take me to get ready, what time I'll leave, how long I will be out. If I'm ready a minute before I told myself I'd leave at, I'll stand waiting at the door. I need times I need to know what's going to happen, I need... Shh, I need my brain to be quiet like a terrorist.