Or, How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Borg
Thus far I have woken up:
once dreaming of vaccuum cleaners only to discover the seal on the damn mask had slipped
once with the tubing wrapped around my torso like a pageant sash
somewhere between "several" and "countless" times with the tubing wrapped around my neck like a squamous or possibly batrachian version of "Porphyria's Lover"
Things are getting better. I'm not yet noticing any improvement in my general level of fatigue, but I no longer feel like my little Cthulhu machine is actively sabotaging me. So that's something.
once dreaming of vaccuum cleaners only to discover the seal on the damn mask had slipped
once with the tubing wrapped around my torso like a pageant sash
somewhere between "several" and "countless" times with the tubing wrapped around my neck like a squamous or possibly batrachian version of "Porphyria's Lover"
Things are getting better. I'm not yet noticing any improvement in my general level of fatigue, but I no longer feel like my little Cthulhu machine is actively sabotaging me. So that's something.
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