Working on it

I've been trying to write.  Blogging.  Fiction.  Anything.  I can't seem to muster enough brain cells together to finish more than a sentence or two.

I've been feeling more than a little scatterbrained lately and my social anxiety and OCD are coming back in waves.  I should probably talk to my doctor about going back on a small amount of medication again but that just seems like quitting, you know?

New Year's Eve this year is looking like a clusterfuck.  A bunch of us are going to the Wild game, then to dinner, then the next part is fuzzy.  Every year a friend-of-a-friend's husband puts on an invite-only party with fancy dress at a local establishment.  A bunch of us were originally against going this year because 1) it's across town, 2) BAR PRICES, 3) the dress code, and 4) getting a taxi on NYE is nigh impossible.  We were going to do multiple house parties and a progressive dinner thing, but then out-of-towners got thrown into the mix and suddenly everyone's like, "let's show 'em around town!"

I haaaaate going out on NYE.  They don't call it Amateur Night for nothing.  The last thing I want to do is stand ass-to-elbow with a pack of suburbanites who come to the "big city" once a year, pay over-inflated alcohol prices (after waiting at an understaffed bar just to order), then worry about how to get home.  Husband and I are more into getting into our jammies, drinking our own alcohol, and going to bed at a reasonable hour.

So we decided to do the hockey game and dinner and then skedaddle back home.  I predict I will be asleep by 11:30.