She won't sleep better alone

In a little bit, I need to pick up S from campus, and then I'm going to ask him if we can go to the Dairy Queen for dinner, seeing as it is so freaking beautiful outside (75 and partly sunny) and I am suffering from semi-numb mouth and pain from having two fillings done this afternoon. The injection site for the novocaine hurts, but I was nervous about the drilling and the nerve endings in my sensitive little mouth, so I had them do the gas and the shots. Now, I am suffering. Dumb me.

Anyway, in the meantime, I am listening to a wonderful Pete Yorn song ("I am on your side") and looking at crap at IKEA. I kind of want the blue Hemnes six-drawer dresser since I am all about having the clothing and a place to put it. You wouldn't know this about me from looking at my room, because everything is crammed into my closet at present time, but someday... I too shall have enough room for everything I own.

This thing linked here is something that makes Andrea laugh while telling people about her diabetes odyssey. I want to either get her the stickers or the t-shirt. The thing about diabetes is that it's really, very, just absolutely so important for me right now to be treating my sister how I always have, like how we act when we're getting along or when we're not. We happen to be getting along quite well right now (trying to spend more time with each other, I think, is natural) and Andrea is sleeping less than she used to. I think part of what was making her such a sleepy girl was having low or high blood sugars (which Andrea calls "blued shooger" in a funny voice).

She's just a young woman who is learning how to take care of herself, dealing with that dead pancreas inside of her body, making sure she's keeping track of her numbers and counting the carbs in everything, but not in an intrusive oh-my-god-low-carb-everything-gotta-watch-it annoying way. Even if I'm wondering what her numbers were throughout the day, I don't ask. It's one thing to think about your own numbers, but another thing to have to tell someone else these little snapshots into your bodily functions. We don't walk up to even our closest loved ones and say, "Had a good poop lately? What about your last menstrual period? How'd that go for ya?" So I just ask how she is, like usual, and I hope other people do the same.