My shrink appointment was, to say the least, irritating. I told him that I still hadn't heard from the counselling service; he looked in my notes and we found out why (OK, I was his first client of the morning, but just maybe he might have read through my notes before seeing me). The thing was, he'd mentioned my back problems to them as a probable contributory factor to the depression (well, duh!), and it seems that they'd inferred from that that I wanted pain management counselling and had referred me to the pain clinic — which, of course, I'm already involved with, and had had, so that was an utter waste of time. He's getting in touch with them to correct their misapprehension, so it's back to waiting. Another instance of the left hand not knowing what the right's doing. More pills, more (metaphorical) pats on the back, no change. Gah.
Hibernation has been doing a re-read of Steven Brust's first three Vlad Taltos novels, which I haven't read for years, and I'm glad to say that I'm enjoying them at least as much as I did the first time around. If you like fantasy novels at all, I'd recommend them to you. The only real problem with them is that they were written out of chronological order, so, though he's tried to make them relatively self-contained, if you read them in publication order you'll have to do a few mental readjustments as you move from novel to novel.
Oh yes, and Sims 2. Which is even more absorbing (for which read: brain-swallowing) than Sims 1. Beware :)
Apart from that, life is much of a muchness. I'm getting heartily sick of being multiply broken. One thing at a time would be quite enough to deal with; having my head fuck me up at the same time as my body playing Hob with me is unfun. I hate this feeling of being stuck, knowing that being stuck is really just a matter of an incorrect headspace, and yet with all that not knowing how to get out of it. Well, I'm not giving up. I'm just going to tough it out for as long as it takes.