...

       "I'm feeling...happy...which is a big deal, for me."

      Seriously, I am and it is. I've been sleeping great lately, and I'm pretty tempted to go back to bed and see if I can get some more good sleep. But I don't really want to waste what is actually a pretty good mood. I've been taking more Benadryl than the recommended dose, and I'm finally not staying awake all bloody night, every bloody night. I'm actually sleeping like a regular person now; eight hours at a time. My last snooze only lasted about two hours, but it was still...amazing. For me anyway; I dreamt my brother's bike got stolen.

      And in my eight-hour sleep, I dreamt that I was at a hotel, my family was walking down the hall, and I was running after them. I wasn't far behind, but I just could not catch up. I should be able to, even if most of my focus was on the shadow of my hair as I ran; it looked really silly. It's knee-length, but it was bobbing around like Chloe Decker's ponytail (when she walks, which I hate). They got outside, and before I could leave, the doors locked for the night and I couldn't open them. At first, my family didn't notice that I'd been locked in, so they kept walking, going home. I turned, went back to our room, didn't have our card key but what the hell, it's a dream. So I stayed up there until my family came back for me. My stepfather, who was always saying goofy things, said, "Is there a woman up there? A graceful woman?"

      And I, being accurately pissed, went back inside and slammed the door. My dream-self contemplates staying there the whole night or maybe longer, saying I was quarantined, but eventually I go to the door, see all these keys hanging right there beside it, and I try them all (yeah, from the inside). The doors open up and before I can decide whether I'm staying or going, I wake up.

      So strange. But I woke up feeling so good. Tired, but good. I usually feel good in bed; once I stand, I realize how sore I am. I can feel my good mood slipping away; pretty soon I'll be back to my pissed self. (Whoa, don't read that wrong.)

      I hope not. I'm never happy. As I lay there, it cheered me thinking of deleting my chat history with that guy I called my bestie. He doesn't even want to chat, so why should I hang onto a corpse of what was? Of course now I'm rethinking it.

      But, ooh, speaking of corpses! Last night, I was playing Scrabble with my mother. I played glocks, aimed, deaths, then I got a Bingo, coffins. Then she played guns, pig, and coral. All of these are in theme with the Walking Dead. I was just sitting there laughing my ass off. Even took a picture. I asked her to send it to me, she said "Okay!" and hasn't.

      Now the AC is on. I'm freezing solid. Like those walkers in the episode The Storm.