Move along, nothing to read

Took Mr Tuppert in to the vet today for his annual vaccines. Apparently when you get a rabies shot they give you a cute lil tag. I may put that on his collar, Just In Case. The odds of him getting out are basically nil but why take chances.

He's got a heart murmur, but it looks like that came up last time, and it's not gotten any worse, so that's just a Thing That Exists. Between that, the one tooth that the vet's been warning me about since he arrived, and what might be early-stage arthritis, this is a cat that is made of Problems (But Not Yet). I'm okay with that. Chaos started showing wear at about this point (thirteen-ish) as well, and he got another four years after that.

I did have a moment of "oh no" when the vet-tech took him to the back for shots and blood-drawing. Nothing real or serious, just the sudden realisation that I'm not nearly ready for him to go away, to be taken into a room by a kind and gentle tech and not come back out again. Of course I'll be there when it happens, this time, but still.

When we got home I gave him a little bit of tunafish, and filled up his treat-puzzle with treats. I don't think he's gotten -all- of them yet but he certainly spent some good time snuffling and crunching. Currently he is sacked out on the bed Recovering. Seems fair.

Been a minute. Again.

September was rough. October was actively bad and November showed every sign of being worse. Sometime around the end of October I made an appointment with my doctor to talk about antidepressants.

I had intended to try them once I got my job situation sorted out. Then again I had intended to have my job situation sorted out long before it got this bad. The thing about me and depression is that episodes always have an external trigger. It's not precisely something that's a part of me. Except for how it's always lurking, waiting for something to go wrong badly enough that it can slip through.

Long story short, I've been on Wellbutrin for a little over a week. It's been ... good? The week or two before I had reached the point of strugging with getting up off the couch to do anything fun, because I couldn't conceive of enjoying anything. That particular weight is lessened. I'm baking, and generally making decent food, and reading things for fun rather than "because this is what i'm reading now".

It's disrupting my sleep, I think. I'm waking up three or four times a night rather than once or twice. I am sticking with it for at least another week in the hope that this sorts itself out; if not, there's plenty of other flavours of drug I can try.

So that's what I've been up to for the last couple of months.

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Other than that ... reading, playing with and sitting with Mr Tuppert, applying for jobs. Some boardgaming. More videogaming than I care to admit, less Getting Outside or Seeing People than I would like.

Hanging in, I guess.

Happy birthday-plus-one to me.