While calling the psychiatrist, I begin reviewing the evidence, the signs that I'm less than well:
*Death of my attention span. I can do approximately ten minutes of editing work before I need to stop and research a Broadway question. Did Becky Ann Baker team up with Sondheim before or *after* her first major TV show? This isn't normal.
*Loss of interest in many things. Halloween has been my big day, for years and years, but the task of removing paper pumpkins from the closet seems insurmountable.
*General agitation. One rainy day, I walked down the street to get my haircut, and I found myself scolding the cars that failed to avoid puddles. As if this "dialog" could accomplish something. I was alert enough to think, Hmmmm... You'd see this in a Julianne Moore film, right before her thrilling breakdown.
My shrink has a word for this--tsuris--which is also a favorite of mine. I think it would be useful for Carefirst BlueCross/BlueShield; how poetic to write tsuris on your claims form!
I have my first "drugs" appointment tomorrow.
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