Stay Positive And Laugh (Third & Final Part)
TYPE 'O' (A.k.a. - "Wait... - what?")
Don't believe anything you think you see. Just don't. You can't see-for-looking what's there, and you keep seeing what ain't.
Double-takes and 'corner of the eye-itis' become your way of life on days like this. You experience exaggerated startle responses to your own shadow. The carpet, tile, and linoleum designs swirl and twist under your feet. Walls have a pulse. You can't judge distance, so you often miss the middle of the furniture and end up sitting on the arm of the chair or the carpet in front of the sofa. The tv screen needs constant adjustment because not one of your half-dozen pairs of prescription glasses solves the problem. Reading is out of the question for the same reason, compounded with the fact that your dyslexia runs rampant and the words keep sliding off the page. The word of the day is, 'vection' (The illusion of movement based only on visual input).
Your cup endeth up on the floor because your hand-eye co-ordination is for shite.
TYPE 'P' (A.k.a. - "The Lizard Brain")
This is a very black & white sort of day - yes, the brain is working, but only on a very minimal level. Creativity, imagination, and even higher-function decision-making have all gone *Pouf* and you are left with the absolute basic, bottom-line functions. Hungry/thirsty. Sleep/wake. Hot/cold. Yes/no. Friend/fuckya. Other life-forms exist, but not as thinking, feeling entities, only as blurry shapes moving through your space and time. It is the purest and most absolute definition of "going through the motions".
Your cup is just a small cylinder with no purpose.
TYPE 'Q' (A.k.a. - "Sez which?")
Aphasia reigns supreme. The overall ability to understand what is being said to you, and the ability to retrieve words from your own internal lexicon have disappeared completely. You know that people are speaking English only because it doesn't sound as harsh as German, as capricious as Japanese, as musical as Spanish, as sybilant as Gaelic, as guttural as Russian, or as sleazy as French. And as far as trying to form sentences yourself, good luck. Basically, your two choices are:
1 - keep spouting the wrong words, making yourself sound insane, or
2 - shut the hell up.
On days like this, if you're very, very lucky, you will be able to describe the words you're trying to use, even as the words themselves completely elude you. Or, you may even be able to retrieve words that are vaguely similar to the words you're looking for. Either option just confuses and frightens people. Best to just pour yourself a lemonade and spend the day quietly with a jigsaw puzzle. Thine chalice bandeth upwards.
TYPE 'R' (A.k.a. - "Fly; be free")
Everything (and I do mean 'everything') that you try (and I do mean 'try') to pick up or hold on to, somehow develops and displays an ability of flight rivalling even the best Olympic high- and long-jumpers. With absolutely no visible means of locomotion, items leap out of your grasp and take to the air, flipping and spinning just for effect, and landing in the worst possible place with the most explosive possible results. Using both hands is a risky maneuver; it will either reduce the chances of losing control by half, or it will double the height and distance of the escaping item. Your cup, rather than running over, has crashed against the fridge on the other side of the kitchen.
Stuff Worth Mentioning (A.k.a. - "Assorted sudden, temporary everyday episodes")
Everything you set down topples or gets knocked over when you take your hand away.
Everything's funny, lamentable, or maddening, even if it isn't.
Some jackhole keeps turning the room upside-down.
You wake up feeling hungover, without having been drunk.
You keep tripping over the housepets. Even when they're up on chairs.
The universe tells you to lie down or it will put you down.
You don't dare attempt reading or writing. Or thinking.
Two words: Mystery Bruises.
You feel an almost physical sense of boredom, accompanied by a desperate need for input. Radio, stereo, t.v., computer. All at once.
Swellings, rashes, bruises, eczemas, eruptions (and other pointless symptoms) appear and disappear, apropos of nothing.
Temperature fluctuations (which put menopause to shame) hit you like volcanoes and icebergs. Also, droughts and floods occur.
Migraines. Oh, my god. You pray for your head to just explode already.
More additions to follow. Inevitably.