Baking Sunday

Baking Sunday

I reluctantly got up this afternoon because I had to bake and mostly, I had to eat something. After I ate, I started baking. The recipe was easy enough. Though I realize I suck at making cupcakes. Even though I let them cool in the fridge for a while, they still stuck to the paper so you got half of the cake. Oh well. They came out good. I just need to frost them. They didn’t come out like the picture. I can never get it to be as perfect as the picture. I am just not that talented.

After I baked, I was really tired. I retreated back to my room and slept for two hours or so. Both my teams lost today. I am not happy about that. Today was the last game for regular season and I didn’t even watch it. I just watched the last of the 9th inning where they lost. They couldn’t get a hit to save themselves.

I keep thinking about my appointment with my therapist tomorrow. I have a feeling it is going to go badly. She doesn’t understand anything about my suicidality. We are just going to have a go round of guilt trips on why I should stay here. It’s going to be emotional and I am not going to like it.

I’ve been in a bad mood for most of the day. I almost told someone Twitter off because she was just being annoying. I thought about joining BPD chat but the topic didn’t interest me. So I just slept. I thought my mother would call me when dinner was ready but she didn’t. That was fine because she really ticked me off. I was explaining about how the directions to the cupcakes said to let them cool in the fridge for 30 minutes and she was just blowing me off, like duh, you are supposed to cool them off. She annoys me all the time whenever I bake. Then she yelled at me for leaving the dirty dishes in the sink. I was going to clean up but apparently I didn’t do it fast enough. So excuse me. She just annoys me.

I haven’t filled my pill box for the week yet. I’ll do it soon enough. I hate filling it because I am on my feet for more than a few minutes. But once it’s done, it’s done. I’ll probably be going to bed soon after I fill it. My psychiatrist wanted me to read a book by Oliver Sacks and I started it last night. I am not amused. I am not finding it interesting and I usually do find clinical type stories interesting. It must be my mood. Lately, nothing has been holding my interest. I don’t want to do anything. Everything takes so much effort.

Tomorrow night I am supposed to go out with friends for dinner south of Boston. I have been sort of looking forward to it most of the month. It’s usually a fun night. I put on my façade that everything is fine and hunky dory. I will be wearing my brace because I can’t trust my ankle anymore and there will be a lot of walking to be done.

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