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Is there a cure for Fail yet?

I started my morning at 3AM, following a dream in which I saw a partial clip for a new music video from the best band in the world] The bit I remember is Chelsea and Camille doing Busby Berkeley style ballet on giant red steps while dressed in articulated metal snowflake costumes.

My subconscious is a very strange place.

And the thing that ALWAYS happens when I dream about my absolute favourites happened - I woke up. But I also woke up to the feeling of something clogging my lung tubes that would not firkin shift.

I could not get back to sleep, for all that I tried.

For those of you who can't understand why I keep having asthma attacks and not noticing... try a simple experiment. Find a clean cotton garment and hold one or two thicknesses over your nose and mouth and breathe through it for a while. You're fine, right? Now fold it in two and try again. You still got this. Now keep going until you really need to rip that thing away and gasp for air.

That's my asthma. But completely out of any kind of control and over the passage of DAYS.

And the feel of a really bad asthma attack is almost an identical sternum-stabbing pain to the feel of my usual panic attack.

I'd already taken a full dose of everything on Max, the night before. And I was still trembly from that, so I took a saline dose to try and shift the muck. Still no luck with that, BTW.

I felt something I never have with a saline dose. My pinkie fingers had pins and needles. Usually, my hands do that after a really bad asthma session, but this time it was the saline that gave me the sensation. There is something effed up with me.

I'll survive it, I know that much. But GDI, I wish I knew how to get rid of it now.

Meanwhile, my tired arse has to make it through the day and haul Chaos off to Karate lessons. Where I hope and pray she actually pays more attention this time. I STFG if she keeps playing with the fucking mirrors, I am not paying for lessons.

I can barely function, today. And I still have to pay bills, go shopping, and run errands.

And to top it all off, the second video I sent in to possibly get into a Steam Powered Giraffe video may not be what they want because I rushed ahead without thinking. Argh. I feel like such a loser.

Sixteen days and a handful of hours before I get my greasy little hands on an e-copy of Quintessential aka Steam Powered Giraffe's Vintage Song Clearinghouse. It's the albumest album to ever album, folks.

I need coffee and emotional support, but all my family have left for other destinations.

...I wonder how long I have to go between saline doses?