Rocket

There are things I know I need to do if I am going to be happy and productive and just generally function as myself and get the things done that I need to have done.

I need to go outside. Even if it is freezing cold, I have to go outside regularly. And not just walking-to-and-from the bus stop, but wandering outside by trees. Luckily, I live by a lake. Unluckily, I am bad at forcing myself to go outside, even if I know it will make me happy. Also, I am uncomfortable going outside by myself if I’m not going somewhere directly. I haven’t worked out that why, but I know it’s true.

I need to exercise. It doesn’t have to be extremely vigorous episode, but I’m definitely happier if I have the chance to dash around a bit from place to place. Little bursts of running about and around. Going on runs makes me feel better, but I’ve never been able to stick to a consistent running schedule for more than a week.

I need to eat regularly also, for maybe-probably-obvious-reasons AKA food is important to function. And I stop functioning quicker-than-average when I am hungry. But I’m also bad at remembering when I’m supposed to eat, even with Todoist reminders and alarms and lists. (And once I remember to eat, I have difficulty figuring out what to eat and the steps to eat, especially if I am already to a hungry-reduced-functioning-level.)

I’m happier when I have regular physical contact. Physical contact makes me feel grounded. But boyfriend lives relatively far away and works decently long and I can only see him on weekends. And most people are not in my comfortable-with-physical-contact-list… and also it would be weird I think since mostly I encounter fellow lab mates on a daily basis.

Luckily, there is a solution to all these problems.

This is Rocket.

Black retriever mix smiling at the camera

He reminds me to go outside several times a day. He makes it not scary and makes it fun. We go on walks with little bits of running to chase geese into the lake.

Big black dog looking at geese in the lakeblack doggie snuggling on a couch

He gets two meals a day and feeding him reminds me that I need to eat. And he is always willing to snuggle with me.

He also solves my used-to-taking-care-of-things habits that come from growing up with goats and dogs and sheep and horses and rabbits and chickens. Life always feels incomplete without something to take care of it. And as much as I like my plants and Dr. Seuss, taking care of them did not use all that much of my input or effort.

For clarification purposes, this is my super-pretty-but-not-very-
cuddly betta who is named Dr. Seuss.
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Living

I need to be able to live somewhere that I am not afraid of leaving my room. I need to live somewhere that I feel safe in the whole living area. That I can go in the kitchen whenever I want to. I am paying rent for half an apartment, but I’m afraid to use most of it. It’s an irrational fear, and afraid might not be the absolute best word for it, but it is the best word I can find right now.

Often, I won’t leave my room if I know my roommate is in the kitchen/living/dining room. This has negative effects on my eating habits. I can’t schedule my meals because I never know if she will be outside her room that day and I will need to make something quick so that I don’t have to stay in the kitchen long if she is out there. Even though I know this is irrational and there is no reason why I can’t use the kitchen if she is in the living room, it is just something that cannot happen, except on the best of days. Even if it isn’t a physical barrier, it is still something that prevents me from eating. It is still a real barrier for me.

I want to state clearly that this is in no way my roommate’s fault. She is a good roommate. She respects my space and doesn’t come into my room ever unless she has something important to tell me (like the oven is still on, or the timer is going off, or I got mail here it is). She doesn’t eat the food that is specifically mine, and splits the bills on the food we share, like bread and milk. She pays the internet bill on time so that we have internet always, which is important. Admittedly, sometimes she doesn’t do the dishes, but that is something I also do. When I told her that I do better with initiating conversations written, she started asking me over g-chat or facebook chat about things like paying my half of the internet bill.

The things that bother me are things she can’t really help. For instance, she had a really bad cough for months. I recognized that was not something she was doing consciously to annoy me, and it probably was worse for her than it was for me. But that still didn’t stop it from hurting my head every time I heard a cough, from distracting me so that I couldn’t concentrate on anything.

But mainly, it is her presence.

And I feel absolutely, positively horrible for saying this, because she is a nice girl. She’s one of my friends from undergrad and she’s also doing a Ph.D here. And her program doesn’t seem to be full of nearly as many lovely, friendly people as my program and I know she is having a hard time with it. My time at school/work is full of friendly interactions with fun people and hers is not.

But I need to move out.
I need to live somewhere I feel safe.
Somewhere where I am in control of the whole living area.
Somewhere that allows pets so that I can have a cuddly, snuggly friend.

But I feel horrible about abandoning her. Even though I’m not leaving until the lease is up (or at least close to it. I can’t pay two leases on a grad student stipend.) Even though we lease through student housing so she can stay here and still pay the same rent and they will probably put someone new in this apartment so that will be good because she will not be alone and generally gets along well with people. And also just that we won’t live together doesn’t mean that we can’t be friends.

And sometimes I talk to her and it is nice and fun and good. And happy even. And then I think that maybe I could handle this, that maybe I am being selfish and antisocial and lazy and if I just started spending more time not in my room I would feel safe in those parts. That it is just me being a horrible, lazy, selfish person.

But it isn’t selfish to want to be safe. It isn’t selfish to want to be able to make myself food on bad or tired days.

Probably not.

Thoughts on food

Just a heads up, I will be talking about eating habits and food and various related topics in this post. I havent had any really big struggles with food as a whole, but there are definitely some issues that will pop up now and then. Sensory issues and executive function issues mostly. 

So I like food.

But, like really. I like food a lot.I spend a lot of time thinking about food. When I am happy, I like to bake and cook fancy things. A large portion of my time with my college friends was spent baking cookies and cakes and brownies and bars and cinnamon rolls. Probably a good 50% of my Facebook posts are recipes. I have an ongoing cheese commentary with one of my friends.

Sure, I’m a picky eater. I like very specific foods. It’s probably more accurate to say that I have very specific dis-likes.

Like tomatoes.
And food with green bits in it. (Unless they are green onions. I will eat those, now.)

Only recently did I learn that there is a difference between not-liking a food and gagging when you eat it. I thought when people didn’t like foods, that is what they meant. That the only way to eat it was to mask in in something else, whether it was eating the cooked spinach in a giant cup of milk so you couldn’t taste or feel it (as in taking a giant sip of milk immediately after to allow me to swallow the spinach.)

I thought that meant I did not like spinach. I assumed when other people said they hated certain foods it meant they also had physical difficulty swallowing it. Or that it made them actively gag.

Admittedly, I didn’t think too much about these differences. If I think about it closely, there is a difference for me between foods that I cannot will not eat unless I hide them in something so my mouth doesn’t have to feel or taste them, and foods that I find unpleasant. Probably.

There are certainly foods I prefer not to eat, but I will eat them if they are offered to me* or are part of the dinner made my my parents.

I think I have a high bar set for disliking food versus being indifferent to it.

I also like to store food. I’m afraid of running out. It is illogical. I have never had a significant food shortage in my life, other than all the food is at the store and I am not at the store.  (And even then, there has always been some food at my apartment, just not the food I want, so it is really more ‘all the food I want to eat is at the store’). So when I have good food, especially good, easy-to-make food, like Trader Joe’s potstickers and Trader Joe’s everything and costco stuff, I don’t want to eat it. Because maybe there will be a day later that I need it. So I should save it.

Of course, then when I am tired and hungry and need a quick meal, which is why my mom got me these TJ’s stuff, I still won’t eat it. Because I need to save it for an emergency. Which is quite silly because the food is replenish-able. Sure, TJ’s is a bit inconvenient to get to, but I have a car. I can do it. Also, I still have tons of it before I have to worry about a shortage and the need for a refill trip.

Maybe I am a little tiny bit possessive of my food. I maybe used to hide the good leftovers in the fridge so no-one else would eat them. (I knew I didn’t have a fair claim to them all, so I could only eat so much at a time, but I wanted them so if I hid them, people wouldn’t notice them as much and I would be safe.) Also, when we were sharing the dessert at our birthday dinner, I realized I was being possessive of it. But I shared, and I even let him have the last bite. It was difficult. (When I commented on my dessert-possesiveness, he told me my whole family is a bit dessert-possessive. Which I believe. We take dessert very seriously in my family.)

And also there is the issue of making food.

It is just so difficult.

It requires me to be out in the kitchen. The kitchen is not as safe as my room. My room is the safest place. Admittedly, I have been doing lovely recently, and even talking to my roommate, but I feel self-conscious about cooking when other people are there. Also, more importantly, I do not want to share. (I would be fine with sharing if we maybe both took turns making meals, or even if she sometimes occasionally made meals, but all she makes is soup.) Because, again, I am possessive of my food.

And then there are all the steps involved. Decide what the meal is. Prepare the ingredients. Cook them. Eat it. Clean the dishes. The first and last steps are usually the ones that I get stuck on. I won’t be able to decide what to make. Or I won’t want to clean dishes. Or all the pots will be dirty from my roommate making soup all week (or admittedly, they can be dirty from whatever I made last, too) and I won’t want to wash them. I guess this is maybe a little bit of the executive function fun coming into play here.

I need to make a menu. When I decide what I am eating for dinner before I head home, I actually make dinner that night. And sometimes it will even be healthy.

And I like eating vegetables, too. But there are just more steps involved in eating and making them, usually involving chopping, so if I don’t have that planned out in advance, if the kitchen isn’t empty, then I will not make them.

Or I will just end up eating yams. But yams are good for you. And also the most delicious thing in the world, so really, I am fine with eating lots and lots and lots of yams.

I like food.
I wish it would magically appear in meal form again, like it did at home.
But in a few weeks I am going home for a week, and then it will magically appear at dinnertime (and probably lunch and maybe even breakfast, because my parents spoil me) and then that will be just lovely and a nice break from being a real grown-up person.

~~~~~~~~~
*Although, honestly, I will try and eat everything that is offered to me if I am a guest, because that is The Rule If Food Is Served To You and refusing otherwise is Rude and Has Consequences, but my family does have weird hospitality/guest traditions that don’t seem to be common in the US at least, so I am probably ok not eating tomatoes at other people’s houses instead of very carefully destroying and hiding the offending items in other pieces of food, and thus destroying the good qualities of the good food in order to make the meal consumable and Avoid Rudeness. But that is another complicated issue that luckily doesn’t come up much, especially since boyfriend has told me that it is Not The Rule for his family, so I don’t have to eat food there that I do not like.

NOT home for the holidays

Note: Talking about food and eating and not eating

This year for Thanksgiving I did not go home (I haven’t for several years, because Thanksgiving weekend is short and I live several thousand miles away from home.) But usually I would meet up with some family that had been scattered around the area or eat with friends or something.

This year, I did not. (People moved around again, and I suppose I did too, now that I am in graduate school and in a different city and other people live in different places and different countries and such.)

But don’t worry I will definitely be home for Christmas, and for a good long time, too.

This year, I went to boyfriend’s family’s Thanksgiving.

Different families have different traditions.
Family traditions are really confusing if you don’t understand them.
Even things less formalized than traditions. Just family habits.

Like shoes.

We wore our shoes the whole time. In the house. All day. I carefully watched people, so I could tell if it was ok for me to take my shoes off. Usually I do that first thing when coming inside. My whole family does. We have shoe piles by all our doors and have to wander around to the various doors when leaving to try and find where our shoes are.

Boyfriend’s family wears shoes inside. (Later I discussed this, and was informed it would be ok for me to take me shoes off. So now I know that for the future.)

And food.

I have come to the conclusion that my family is overly attached to food. We have very specific dishes. And large numbers of them. Each family makes a few of the different ones to spread out the work. When you have a 30 person Thanksgiving*, you can have more dishes than a 13 person one. And then there are the desserts, which is a whole new meal that you wait several hours for so that you have enough room for it. And the rules about who does which clean-up chores. It is very carefully regimented.

This is the dessert table from the Thanksgiving that my family had that I did not go to. It was much smaller than normal because a lot of people are still in college or are off in various other parts of not-home doing things, like me. Usually there are more cheesecakes. And ice cream. And normal cakes. And whipped cream. And just about everything. But also usually there are 30-50 people, which there wasn’t this year. Also, it was rather cruel to send me this picture. 

These rules do not apply in other families.

Also, they have different food and apparently they make the mashed potatoes taste like water and the sweet potatoes not taste like delicious orange things that are my favorite food ever. (And so then I had a lot of food on my plate that there was no way I was going to eat because it lied about what it was. But it is against the rules not to finish your food when you are a guest. But I couldn’t eat it. So I got stuck there a while until boyfriend noticed and ate the various potatoes for me and then saved me and then I could go eat more turkey and stuffing [which was also wrong, but at least it was yummy, so it was ok].)

And that (mostly the food) makes me sad because it is probably an event I will be going to for years and it is not a potluck thing, so I guess I will have to just deal with it by making my own later after the event** because I do not know if there would be a way for me to offer to make the food without offending people. I will confer with boyfriend on this. But he probably doesn’t know because the food just appears. And also everyone else seems to like it. So I will pretend to like it and remember which ones I don’t like and serve carefully of the things I like so that I have enough food and no one questions me and finds out I don’t actually like most of the food.

And then there are other secret codes and languages. Hidden jokes and words and ideas. “I’ll explain later”s. Songs and dances. What is the order for getting the food? Is there rules to who can sit where?

Boyfriend is good and reviewed things with me before. Where we were going. What would happen. Who would be there. How loud it would be and when and where. But there are things you don’t think of explaining because that’s how you have always done it, so why does it need to be explained. But different families do things differently.

And most families don’t have quiet rooms that you can go to and take a break in and have it be perfectly ok and normal and expected. (And I don’t know them well enough to start exploring the house.)

But boyfriend is important to me. And so is his family. And I want to learn their traditions and get involved in them and be part of their family, too, because that is part of the end goal and in the five-year plan that we have made. And also my family is too far away to go home to for Thanksgiving, so this seems like a good starting place.

But also his family is weird (although I like them very much) and also has issues which are not mine to discuss here and those can be upsetting and confusing to me. Because I mostly know how to deal/cope with/ignore my family issues (because we have our deep dark hidden secrets, too, but I know how we approach them), but I am confused with these issues when I know what they are but I do not have a lifetime of dealing with them to have developed coping mechanisms or to have learned the rules regarding them.

Luckily, there were small children and dogs present. Those are my strongest groups of social interactions. I made new friends, even with the shy ones. We put together puzzles. Both of those classes of living things have a tendency to like me because I don’t mind sitting on the ground and acting embarrassingly. I also discussed farming and coyotes with someone else, which is another one of my strong points.

And his family that I know was very very nice, and most of the people I didn’t know were also nice.

So it was good. And then I came home and lost all my words and boyfriend came over for a bit until the meltdown-shutdown-crying-panic-overload went away and I was happy again.

And then I slept for 13 hours.

(Which threw off my sleep schedule which is why I am still up past 2:00 now…)

~~~
* Or a 50 person Christmas
**Definitely made one-person sweet potato pie the day after to make up for the fail.

Roommate Rantings

Things I have only had moderate success with: getting along with roommates.

I’ve always lived with sisters, so I’m not quite sure the difference. I think because maybe you are allowed to yell at sisters and sometimes hit them and getting mad at them is okay. Because I certainly had problems with my sisters sometimes. But those were usually minor incidences. But this roommate issue isn’t because I am used to having my own room. Because I shared one for large portions of my life.

Sometimes it doesn’t work out well at all. Right now, it is ok. Not the worst roommate arrangement I have had, but not at all ideal.

I’ve lived with my best friend for a summer, and that worked out wonderfully. We each had our own rooms, and a nice big kitchen and baked lots of delicious things and watched a lot of cooking shows and House Hunters and Say Yes to The Dress together. She was an awesome roommate (I maybe not so much, admittedly, but we were still super good friends after, too.)

For one summer program, I lived in a quad in a dorm room with 3 other girls. My roommate was quiet and nice and very religious and gone a lot. That worked out pretty well. We sometimes hung out and she taught me how to make bread and nothing bad particularly happened. One of the other girls in the other room was especially awesome so I hung out with her more. (And then my friend who I lived with earlier was also on campus, so I spent a lot of time with her and that group of people.)

My freshman year of college roommate was also ok. We didn’t really talk much, because she had a long distance boyfriend, but we coexisted peacefully in the same space.

Sophomore and junior year roommate was bad. Same girl. I knew it would be bad and not work out but I couldn’t figure out how to say no because there wasn’t anyone else who would have lived with her probably. And junior year I had a high enough rank on the room-pick-list, I could have gotten a single, but she couldn’t have, so that would have also been mean. Sophomore year was ok, with drifting into bad. Like when she broke up with her boyfriend of less than a week and then ate all my birthday ice cream. And then it got absolutely horrible junior year. Part of it probably wasn’t her fault, admittedly. I think both of our lives were falling apart in different ways and two people who have lost control of their lives don’t really make good living partners.

Anyway, and now there is now.

Currently, I need to find a way to tell my roommate that sometimes I just want to not talk to anyone and it isn’t that I don’t like her, it is just that I am home and home is my quiet, not-talking-to-people place.

But I haven’t told her I’m autistic yet.
Because I’ve only told a handful of people.
Because it is sort of still a processing-thinking-secret.

And it’s tricky too, because she is one of my friends from college, I guess, so I think she wants to hang out. And her program is so much less aggressively social than mine is. Or really, social at all. So I get my social fill up at school and at work because everyone is very friendly and talks and chats a lot (about fun stuff, too! Like science and food! So I enjoy it.) And then I want home to be a quiet place. But she comes home from school lonely because the people in her program don’t really talk much and wants to talk and hang out.

And I don’t want to be mean but I just need to hide.
And also sometimes she is really annoying a lot but I feel mean and petty when I say that, but really yes basically it is true.

But sometimes I am fine.

But I also don’t want to be mean and tell her I don’t actually like hanging out with her because that is mean and what if my friends told me that and are actually only pretending to like me because they are being nice, so I should be nice also. (And also because this lease is through August.) Or tell her that she is boring and talks to her family too much and too loudly. Badbadbadbad.

As soon as this lease is up, I am getting a new apartment. One where it is just me.

So that I can go in the kitchen when I come home tired and hungry. Where I don’t have to hide in my room when I need to eat. But now, I hide until I know it is safe to leave. And I can’t make food that takes a long time, even though I like cooking, because the kitchen isn’t safe. I have no snacks because I can’t make any. So I’ve been making meals at 1:00 after she is asleep and baking things then, because that is when I know it is safe.

Because right now my room is the only safe place. Because people might talk to me everywhere else (And by people, I mean my single solitary roommate.)

And it is a bad day-week-time-period, so I am NOT okay with that. But you aren’t ALLOWED to yell at people to GO AWAY DON’T TALK TO ME when it is also their kitchen.

And she has an unpredictable schedule so I never know when I am coming home if she is going to be there or not. So when I plan my evening on my walk home based on the usual pattern of her being at home or not being at home, and then I walk in the door and she is there when I thought I would be alone, it breaks. I just sink and escape to my room as soon as I can and stay hidden as long as I can.

I can’t know until I have checked out the apartment and the rooms if it is safe to finally be sad if I am sad or tired if I am tired. Because that is only safe if I am alone (or with a very few specific people that absolutely does not include roommate).

Going home is stressful because I have to escape through the apartment to get to safety. 
Everything is bad.
Sometimes it is ok, but right now everything is bad.
Life is overwhelming right now.

Flashbaaack to the past

Reflecting on my autistic growing up, even though I didn’t really know I was autistic then, and no one else really did either. Because I come from a strange family to begin with. These are both happy stories mostly to make up for the more depressing memories that showed up recently. But also because I am generally a happy person who has had a mostly happy life and I don’t want to deceive anyone into thinking otherwise. AND because I really like telling stories about things that have already happened.

My 16th birthday party was pretty awesome. I very thoroughly had forgotten about it, though. My youngest sister is turning 16 soon, though, so my mother brought it up in a conversation with me recently.

At this point in my life, I had two friends, which was really great. (A major improvement over the last couple of years before that, so I was happy.)

I invited my friends over.

For my 16th birthday, we looked up words in the dictionary and solved logic puzzles. Then we went to see Music & Lyrics. Then we came home and ate pie. Actually, we ate pie and cheesecake. Yes, we did get two different types of dessert for a three person party (and I only invited 2 people, so I wasn’t disappointed by lack of attendance or anything.) It was a lemon meringue pie and a kahlua cheesecake from Marie Callendar’s. (The desserts I had for my birthday every year.*) I think they got picked up after that and went home, but I’m not too clear on those details. It was a long time ago, you see.

This is very different than what either of my two sister’s birthday parties would have been like. Although, I am also more organized than either of my sisters, so I think I am the only one who will have had a 16th birthday party, which I am amused by, because I am hands-down the least social of us all.

(If my youngest sister had a 16th birthday party, she would probably want to invite boys. Even the middle one wouldn’t have thought of that.)

But this was my kind of party.

Also, when I was 16, I realized how to hang out with my friends without going to football games. This also resulted in a MAJOR improvement in my social life.

Freshman year of high school, I had a vague idea that high school football games were a place where people would hang out. Sometimes people even asked me if I was going to the football game. So I went, with my father, and sat and watched the game.  I don’t really like football all that much. And I certainly didn’t then. (I’ve come to like football more because of the social aspects that college games have and also I may have been minorly brainwashed by school spirit into being slightly invested in the outcome of the game.)  And football games are loud.

Also, sitting next to your father who is totally way too much into this high school football game (and actually really about any sport because apparently he reads the local sports scores summary in the newspaper for every single sport for every single school in the entire (VERY DENSELY POPULATED COUNTY THAT WE LIVE IN) county, but not in a creepy way), is really not an effective way to socialize with your peers. I’m not really sure, still, where they are at high school football games, but they are generally not sitting next to my father.**

Sophomore year, I had updated this a bit and had actually made friends to meet a friend at the game (one of the two friends I invited to my party!) and then we would usually hang out at her house afterwards because she lived relatively close to where most of the games were.

The breakthough came when we realized that neither of us really liked football games so we could skip that step of hanging out and just go straight to someone’s house where we could hang out and make cookies and read separate books in the same room  and stuff that friends do like that. And talk about AP Biology, because that was really what I did.

Trouble with initiating social activities.

That’s a thing.

~~~
*For some reason, I always was allowed to get 2, while my sisters only got one cake. I think it was because I wanted lemon meringue but my mother didn’t like lemon meringue, so she got a cheesecake because she liked that. (And I did, too.) It was ok, because only my dad and I liked the lemon meringue (in my family), so I could eat both for a while, then just lemon meringue and I would have leftover birthday cake for a long time.
**Although surprisingly, sometimes they actually are, because my dad is a “cool dad”, but for real, but that makes it a lot more complicated, so we shall ignore this for now.

Adventures in Apartment Living: The Food Edition

TW: I am discussing my eating habits and food habits and irregularities with them.

(1)

So, I have found some nice things about living in an apartment in a city. There are a lot of places with food nearby.  Delicious food.
And a lot of them will deliver.
And there is an app called Grub Hub.
Which means you don’t even need to TALK to people to order food. Or leave your apartment.
This seems like to me the best idea ever.
Although potentially financially dangerous.
But FOOD!

(2)

I’m also a grad student, so while I’m definitely still financially solid (assuming I keep track of my finances, which… may happen. Boyfriend is helping me make a budget soon. Because large numbers stress me out, as much as I love math. [But he is an accountant, so what I think of as “big numbers” are probably itsy bitsy ones compared to what he works with normally.] My current method is to avoid buying everything, which probably isn’t too sustainable.), I probably should cook my own meals and stuff fairly regularly.

Also, I like the food I cook.
Also, I basically ONLY like vegetables IF I make them.
Also, I like cooking.
So cooking really shouldn’t be a problem…

(3)

I used to be fine with grocery stores. I think I am still fine with the actual STORE part. Getting to the store though… that is tricky. (It shouldn’t be. I have a car. I can DRIVE. And I don’t mind driving.) Finding a time to go to the store is tricky. Getting in the car is tricky. Planning is tricky. I don’t have a set schedule with a set meal-planning time and a set store-time.

(4)

It’s strange that it is so difficult, because I used to have such an efficient method down. But I think part of the reason it worked so well was because I was team-cooking. My roommate and I planned all the things together. (That summer, we didn’t really have any other friends staying around school.) Now, planning meals is trickier. Really, it just hasn’t happened. And I’m a lot more tired when I get home. I just want to sleep.

(5)

We don’t have a dishwasher though. That makes me want to cook less. Because I do not like washing dirty dishes. Sponges are the worst. (Although I solved that dilemma by wearing gloves, so then my hands don’t have to touch the sponge). And actually this is a silly idea because if I cook, my roommate will do dishes.

(6)

Future goals:

  • Plan at least 2 meals a week. Make them big enough for leftovers. Leftovers are the best thing ever invented.
  • Also make food big enough that I don’t have to bring these sad turkey sandwiches I’ve been bringing to work to work.
  • Always have cheese and bread. Because then I can have grilled cheese which is always amazing and always makes me happy.
  • Streamline grocery shopping so I only have to go twice a month. (Mainly, for me, this means buy more milk. Milk is a very important part of my diet.)
  • Also, I really should eat breakfast because I am supposed to eat with my medication in the morning…but I don’t always. Because breakfast foods are gross. And eating in the morning is gross. I usually will at least drink milk though, so that is something. (Yes, I really do like milk.)