Made it through another day without tossing myself off of the ledge or alienating anyone. I think.

Boy. The tamoxirage is getting worse. Trying to discuss possible kitchen renovations turned into a screaming match about how to hold the tape measure or something. 

And honestly, I want to fix the apartment in case I "expire" prematurely. If the cancer doesn't get me, the tamoxifen may. And I know hubs, he won't spend the money I leave (or the insurance cash) to put in new cabinets. Seems frivolous, but not to me. If I'm gone, I want everyone to be comfy. Me, snuggled up in an urn. Sure, I'd be so ashy that no amount of lotion could fix me... Egads. 

And if I manage to survive a while, I want a new damned kitchen. There. I win regardless. 

But this psycho shit has to stop. Oh my god. 

Sickness lingering. Rage. Joint pain. Ravenous. It's all a recipe for "ahhhhhhhh!!!"

On top of everything , after hubby left for work, mad at me, his cancerous mass of a bride, my girl and I discovered that she has a test tomorrow. Um. What? So we spent about 3 hours studying. Guess what? If she doesn't ace this shit, I'll be shocked. Went from nothing to everything. I kept my head, mostly. 

A January Christmas Miracle, I tell ya.