I am certain there are a million different people with a million different horror stories of how sucky diabetic neuropathy can be. Mine isn’t bad and I am thankful for that every single day. But it is important to remember that even one small Hershey’s kiss sized piece of poop on top of your sundae of life is still some shit in your sundae.
As I lay there I feel it; worse on my left foot than my right.<low buzzing almost electrical  zappery> Ugh. Make it stop! so I kick my foot. Didn’t help. Okay, I will listen to an audiobook. That’ll help distract me. . <low buzzing almost electrical zappery now accompanied by an audiobook>   I flip. I flop. I kick. I fuss. Finally at about one in the morning, after enough flipping, flopping, kicking, and fussing to irritate even Herbert (diabetic alert dog) off the bed I dig into my bag for a knife and with a growl of rage I grab the toe of my socks and pull it away up away from my toes and cut. it. off. A quick cut to the other sock and with a sigh conveying relief, irritation, and exhaustion I fall asleep within seconds.
I can’t have things touch my toes at night. Not always, sometimes I don’t feel it at all. But when I do—ugh. I now own more toeless socks than toed socks. Should I ever need to wear real shoes this may pose a problem.

Now, you are probably wondering, why not just take the socks off?

Well, because I am weird and my feet get cold and I wake up at 4 am with them aching if they get too cold. Also, it prevents my legs from getting bitten too much by mosquitos because yes, I wear thigh high socks to bed after the toes have been cut off.

So why not wear pants to bed?

Ah, wise question. Turns out that nowadays when I wear pants to bed due to my vast floppery I usually end up tied into an origami nightmare of which there is no escaping.

What is my entire bedtime ensemble you ask?

Ah, that one is easy. But be warned people, it ain’t sexy. Thigh high socks, no toes and bike shorts with a t-shirt. See, now I know you are all trying to make it cute…..it isn’t. But hot damn is it comfortable and for the most part prevents evil mosquitos from snacking on the majority of my body while I sleep.
Okay, toe rant over.
kisses!
-H.

No, I don’t want to be a jerk. I don’t wake up in the morning and rub my hands together and say, “bwah hah hah, how can I destroy other people this fine day!”  Instead, I usually wake up and say, “mmmmm. I want a bean and cheese burrito covered in extra cheese, taco sauce, and sour cream and a diet coke” and ladies and gents, that is about as deep as I go most days. So, please know that when I forget to text message you back or even forget to turn on facebook messenger and shoot you back a quickie I am not ignoring you. I’m not attempting to *do* anything. In fact, I am probably thinking about where my next burrito is coming from and sadly, THAT IS NOT A EUPHAMISM!

The funniest part of this? There is going to be no less than 5-7 people in my life who are going to read this post and think I am writing this directly to them and only them. Sadly, I am not. This is to all y’all. Except E. E and I have that type of friendship that allows us to completely ignore each other for days, weeks, months, and then get back into talking (and by talking I mean texting because both of us are pathological regarding our mutual hatred of talking on the phone) on an hourly basis for a while and then drifting back into getting distracted by shiny objects.

I have another friend (that’s right people, I have more than one friend–I’m fancy!) who once told me that her theory on brains is that there is a tiny dude living in everyones mind who works as a librarian. Some librarians know where every book is located by memory, some have to check a database, and some have everything in a messy card catalog. I embraced this theory but I’m 94% certain that the little librarian dude in my brain is stoned and has been stoned since I was a child. (Please note–I have not been stoned, the teeny little librarian dude in my brain is stoned) (this has taken an odd turn….anywhoodle). My brain librarian is SUPER ORGANIZED in some sections but in others he has put up party lights, a lava lamp, and with the strategic use of bean bag chairs turned those very important sections into a stoner paradise. Whenver I try to access those areas in my noggin librarian dude starts distracting me by lighting up other areas of my brain and causing me to get distracted and then instead of remembering to check in on facebook or look at my phone I end up turning my refrigerator into a chalkboard with the use of fancy paint or watching every single episode of some long-cancelled tv show or sharpening all of the knives in my house or coloring….what was I talking about? Oh yeah–I have distraction issues…..:)

I guess what I am trying to say is that I am sorry I forget to keep into contact with y’all. I don’t mean to hurt anyone’s feelings. I just get distracted by life (the concept, not the dog; although sometimes she is kinda distracting….dammit–dude in my brain! stop distracting me!). But maybe that makes me a jerk?  I don’t know. I try not to be a jerk.  If I have been a jerk to you I am sorry.

**kisses**

H.