I.am.going.crazy.

Not crazy, crazy... just slightly crazy. Of course, I've been told on numerous occasions that crazies don't know they are crazy.. so perhaps I'm not really going crazy? Eeks. I don't even think that sentence made sense. Oh well, it's my blog.

Here's the deal. Since starting round two of the crazy pills (you know, a little prozac never hurt anyone) I just could not care less. I went on them to combat the awful anxiety I possess. Now? I don't even stress about anything. The papers due on Thursday? Eh. They'll get done somehow. The two parent meetings I have tomorrow (parent meetings used to = stress beyond belief)? I'm ready for them. The messy house? Used to knock me off my rocker, which meant I was a bossy biatch, which meant nobody could stand me. Now? The mess will still be there tomorrow. Deadlines? Ahh.. those are nothing.

Here's where the crazy comes in..

I wish I had some part of me that would stress at least a bit. You know, make me care about the papers, meetings, and mess. Nope. Nada. Zero. Zilch. Not a care in the world.

Hopefully I'll find a happy medium. I work best under pressure. Of course, I think that means I have to have some pressure. Not exactly sure where that pressure will come from if I don't put it on myself!

Edited to add: The dogs? They still get my goat. They do stress me out and make me want to poke my eyeballs out. In a good way, of course.