Parasitic Dystopia

I'm awake. J is at work, T is sleeping. I'm essentially alone in the (now clean-ish) house drinking coffee and watching a show about parasites and becoming more terrified by the moment.

The message of this show, other than fear mongering, is "Don't use dirty contact lenses! You can get a horrible parasite and your eyes will fall out!" "Don't walk barefoot in subtropical climates! There's a parasite that will burrow through the soles of your feet and kill you!" "Don't get a tick, you'll die!" "Don't eat sushi, you're bound to get intestinal worms and die of peritonitis!" and all I can do is think about all the sushi I ate while barefoot in Hawaii, my eyes enveloped in potentially hazardous contact lenses.

I'm reading "The Handmaid's Tale" by Margaret Atwood, because, you know, dystopian societies where women are considered less than men, cattle, essentially, breeding stock, is totally uplifting and just what I need right now.

My other option was to re-read "House of Leaves", which is the scariest book I have ever had the pleasure of reading. Seriously. Most people I know that have read this book either couldn't finish it because it was too hard, too weird, too scary. One of my friends who read it still has nightmares about it.

I slept with the lights on, within visual range of my mom, the entire time I was reading this. I powered through it in hopes that the ending would make it end, and I was wrong.

It's a good book. Anything that successfully makes you feel something, well, it's a success.

I'm watching The Graham Norton Show, which is a show that I love more that I should.

I'm still not feeling any better about anything, really. But whatever.

I made jam last night and I don't think it's going to gel. So I made syrup. With fruit bits in. Sigh. At least I have that much more room in my freezer now.