Well, bugger.

[waid]

On Wednesday I went to the chemists' to pick up my prescription of Angst-B-Gon, having run out entirely (and yes really I should pick it up several days in advance but who does that? PEOPLE WHO ARE NOT ME) and the stupid thing was shut. In the middle of the afternoon, for no reason. Then on Thursday, I forgot all about it, and suddenly remembered at 6.30, when the chemist's had just shut for the evening.

Friday, ditto. I am an idiot. I kept remembering, but I was trying to finish something and then SIX-THIRTY HOSHIT MY BRAIN GLUE.

Arse.

And now the pharmacy is shut for the weekend. How can a pharmacy shut for the weekend?! I phoned the doctors' to see if maybe my prescription could be sent to Boots or something and the sodding SURGERY is shut for the weekend.

It bears repeating: arse.
 
I've been fine so far, but five days is a very fair stretch of time for things to go peculiar in.  Hmm. *pokes brain*  What are you up to, in  there? Is the glue set, at last? Because it really better had be.

Well, these are not ideal conditions for this kind of experiment, but right. Away we go, I guess.

I feel I actually have a decent shot this time. Last year a shorter break than  this would have  guaranteed I could look forward to several extended sessions of gibbering and uselessness and four-hour recovery periods from things like making phonecalls, and that's without family members amusing themselves by developing life-threatening conditions.  But I dunno, this time I feel like so long as I handle my brain with care  it really ought to be equal to holding up for a weekend.

(Crap, what do I do if it does? Announce myself cured and come off entirely? Try going down to 10mg again? Or just thank fuck for my good fortune and lay siege to the pharmacy until it opens?  My aunt and brother have both told me you KNOW when you're ready to come off anti-depressants and until then you DON'T DO IT and though I feel oddly optimistic I don't think this is the sort of magical certainty they were talking about.)

EDIT: It's all right, crisis over! My Mum told me to try and get Boots to give me an emergency supply; I was CONVINCED this would not work, but it did. Mother knows best. Thank goodness I had filled my prescription  there a couple of times about a year ago, so they did have my details -- it is now worth having been treated so infuriatingly back then by that pharmacist who tried to hold my medication hostage until I explained exactly why I was on anti-depressants at all and why the dosage had gone up in the middle of Boots.   Also thank goodness I am not a very tidy person, so it was easy for me to supply an old box to show I was actually on this stuff.