Well, I dont't know if this is Cymbalta withdrawal or Benadryl talking, but last night I slept for 16 hours, and drempt that I was interviewing Jodie Foster, while it was snowing golfball-sized green snow made out of margerine. The snow had little snakes in it that could talk, but everyone was calling them piranas. I was arguing that piranas are fish, not snakes, but nobody believed me. My wheelchair would not go through the snow, so I got up and pushed it, and the seat was piled full of shoes. I looked behind me and there were no footprints in the margerine snow. I was searching for my 2 cats, and I had to carry them one in my arms and the other on my neck while I pushed my chair.

Withdrawal is a wild ride.