40

This morning I convinced Erik that we should do some work on the big closet. Work means going through boxes and throwing stuff away. He got me just two boxes, and it took me hours to sort. I found a hundred homemade Welsh language flashcards, E.T. the movie badges, bottles of perfume I'd had since I was about 5, stickers, my Permanent Record, old letters that made me teary, old letters I didn't feel strong enough to read. But mostly papers, like poems written by long lost classmates, and essays with teacher comments in the margin. Now that everything's email, maybe I'm accumulating less crap.

In the afternoon we went for a walk, and Erik talked to me about intelligent design and how he picks it apart and how he feels about it all. We walked for 40 minutes. Forty definitely feels like a blue number, for me.

The excitement of the day was getting a bill in the mail for $327.07 from my mental health place. They've decided to start charging me for my drugs, all of a sudden, and $327.07 is the cost of my drugs for one month. This bill was for November, which means more bills for December and January are already in the works. I called my caseworker twice (no answer). Tomorrow after DBT the plan is to "demand" to see my caseworker, which means holding vigil for an hour or two hours or however long until she decides to see me. She told me during our annual paperwork meeting (which is why all this happened) that if I ever get a bill, to call her, so hopefully she can help me.