So I went to Robert's pot luck (Robert, not Rob, lest there be any confusion). I worried my depression would turn me into a party pooper, but I really wanted to be around people. I ate a tiny little bit of (excellent) soup and bread, and promptly ran upstairs and threw it right back up again. BFunk rubbed my shoulders, and let me cry, which was wonderful and welcome.

Then to Maria's bonfire, which I'd been looking forward to, but which I was clearly not up for. It's still going on; I'm at home and getting ready for bed. At 8:00 pm. Ya.

Ha -- 8:08 -- hi Bob.

Anyway ... the great good news is that my friend Dan is now planning to drive up here next weekend to take me out for an early birthday dinner. It's one of the kindest gestures I can think of anyone doing in a long time.

Also, I think I'm done with my Rob-Free Filter. The purpose was for me to write what I was feeling without creating fuel for still more fights, and that seems kind of pointless now.

OK. Time for more pills and bed.