It felt really good to unload all of that. The cockroaches, actually, have been absent this morning, perhaps the extermination effort did work.
I took the rats home today after, I'm so glad they're back with me. Getting that cage in the car was...a lot. But echoed by the amusing satisfaction of walking around carrying a giant cage of rats. There are exactly two.
I have been reading Vice's mental illness issue. Should have known this might be a mistake. What started out as funny and validating became, wow, I'm a circus animal to these bastard hipsters. Then I relaxed and realized...ah, silly me, it's Vice, a little is great and funny and all that, and too much and I get queasy.
I am tired, but somehow sleep is difficult.
The Group Home photos were especially depressing. There's something about...okay, where in the DSM-IV or where else does it say crazy people like collages? Is it just lazy caretaker art therapy? Sorry, no crayons for you!
And then the really annoying part about being in the psych ward and being told to make a collage is they won't give you scissors. Of course not, a pen is a big deal. It's all about wet and tear.
There's something validating about looking up bad tattoos and clown tattoos.
Is there something here about the desire to feel better than/worse than someone? Perhaps.