By the looks of things, I have a regular following of blog readers. I wonder who they are.

Anywho I'm gonna need to put on my thermals to go walkies tonight, it's still really cold. No, I'm NOT going on the motorway. I'm just going to walk up the main road until I am sick of it. And if that takes until I get into town, whatever. I don't have to be anywhere until 12:30pm tomorrow, and that's Lambie Dr, so I can reasonably walk there from wherever I walk to.

I did end...

So it's like, half past midnight pretty much. Since 11am on the 11th, I've totalled 3 hrs sleep all up. It's the 13th by a gnat's whisker. Fuck I'm amazing.

I rang the crisis number to check how important it is to up the dosage of quetiapine. The lady said she would consider it pretty important, but basically there's not going to be anybody breathing down my neck checking. Based on that, I'ma continue with 500mg. I don't want to take 600mg. I don't like change, and I don't want my...

So yeah, last night. I went for a walk balanced (apparently precariously) on the top of the median barrier on the motorway. Fucking. Awesome. It was a kick, to say the least. And then the cops came, as I knew they would. And I got in trouble for laughing and not taking it seriously - gosh I was having a great time - and then I got arrested for disorderly behaviour, at which point I was quieter, but continued to grin cos I felt good.

Back to the station, processed etcetera, get told...

(We are young . . . lolol)

Baked cookies. Were not that nice. Well, were nice, but they're nicer when you include an egg. I didn't have an egg, so I used milk to bind instead and basically kept the recipe exactly the same aside from that. I also think that perhaps there is too much butter in the recipe, next time I'll try using less - like 2/3 of the specified amount or something like that - because you can feel the grease on your lips as you eat the cookies. And in my book, a good...

Hear a van in my driveway, somebody knocks at the door. Shitting myself thinking it's the cops. Answer the door. It's the maintenance guy from HNZ. Relieved lol. Also, it means our bedroom doors will get handles, and the shower wall will be fixed. He didn't say anything about the washing line though.

Saw probation lady this morning. She asked lots of questions today. I think she's around my age or not too much older. I've got her placed sort of late twenties to early thirties. ...

Leisa rang earlier. Turns out she was sick on Thursday and Friday with a stomach bug. So now I know that it wasn't entirely my diet, which is good, because I normally have a fairly strong constitution. So she said she's going to get on to getting our waste-water pipe this week. That'll be good. Yay, clean clothes.

Sam also rang. She's sounding better but disappointed about her phone. It's either been lost or stolen and we're all inclined to think stolen. Leisa said that Sam's prediction...

Every time a car drives past my unit, I get paranoid that it's going to be somebody coming to see me. I don't feel like seeing anybody at the moment. I also don't feel like conversations with any of the people I might potentially see - Leisa, Judy, Jens - I'm buzzing on my solo thing at the moment.

And the reason for that paragraph was that a car drove past my window just as I was starting this blog entry, and I had a little minor panic.

I'm wearing clothes that are...

Private entries cannot be viewed from this page. Click here to view this entry if you have permission to.

There has been a mass exodus of tape from the roll onto the backs of posters, leaping to the (brick) internal wall and affixing itself there, mostly square, except for maybe the atlas. Because regular sticky-tape didn't work. Blu-Tak fell off with genuine fear of commitment to the wall. So the big guns were called in, and double-sided sticky-tape has stood upon the podium for its victory against the painted brick wall. And the room is more colourful, and more personalised, as a result. The painting...