I'm feeling very moody. And not just normal moody, some kind of extra special moodiness. The kind of moodiness where if you just say words like "husband" I automatically scream and flail a little.
I went to 2 Dr's appointments this morning. Ugh. Counting the 2 today, 1 yesterday, 1 last thursday and 1 tomorrow that makes WAY TOO MANY times.
This morning I woke up and saw the billion tiny zits on my chin. But I only get zits when I'm pregnant (and TRUST ME, I am not pregnant.) Having no zits is my ONLY positive beauty factor, so I get really mad when I get them. And this morning I almost threw something.
I had to see the eye dr. I sat in the waiting room and read the over-sized print version of Readers Digest. It was about how a teenager saved a 4 year old who was being mauled by dogs. I started panicking, with real heartfelt concern, but then they called my name.
At this Dr's office they always numb my eyeballs TWICE. Why twice? Seriously. I hate the way numb eyeballs feel. I was back to the desire of chucking something.
But I like my new eye dr. She's nice, and helpful, and knowledgeable, and not at all cocky like the rude dr I ditched a few weeks ago. I felt all fuzzy when she was there.
Then I had to go to my other dr to get my paint test results. In the car, the song "Hit Me with Your Best Shot" came on. That is my daughter's favorite Guitar Hero song. And then I thought about my daughter and started to cry.
But then I got out of the car and loudly announced that I had just seen the eye dr to explain the teariness just in case someone in the parking garage thought I was a pansy.
Then I walked past a really expensive car (probably my dr's) on the way in. And I looked at our 1995 Toyota Camry, with it's double cracked windshield, dents and 250,364,942 miles and I felt like keying a nice long scratch in the side of the expensive car. But my keys were in my pocket, and I also felt lazy.
Then I had to wait again and read about some really fun Halloween ideas and I got really really excited (the kids and I are TOTALLY making tie-dye pumpkin t-shirts and breadsticks that look like bones.)
After hearing my bleak (sorry, but you might just have to live with daily pain and aggravation) results I felt depressed.
Then I mentioned to my dr how moody I have been (and possibly he noticed the forest of zits on my chin coupled with the dry frizzy excuse for hair coming off my head) and he sent me over to the lab to get my thyroid tested. It would be nice to blame my thyroidial hormones for all of this, but do I really want something else to be wrong with me? It's a conundrum I tell you.
Oh, and on the way home I stared at the guy next to me at the stoplight who had a big bushy mustache and was holding 4 harmonicas. He was play all of the harmonicas in turn. His mustache moved a lot. Did I mention this guy was also the only passenger of the car which made him the driver. And it just so happened that on the radio at that same exact moment was the song that says, "I think you're crazy. You may be crazy....." over and over. It's like the universe was communicating to me - - about a crazy harmonica playing mustached man.
I went to 2 Dr's appointments this morning. Ugh. Counting the 2 today, 1 yesterday, 1 last thursday and 1 tomorrow that makes WAY TOO MANY times.
This morning I woke up and saw the billion tiny zits on my chin. But I only get zits when I'm pregnant (and TRUST ME, I am not pregnant.) Having no zits is my ONLY positive beauty factor, so I get really mad when I get them. And this morning I almost threw something.
I had to see the eye dr. I sat in the waiting room and read the over-sized print version of Readers Digest. It was about how a teenager saved a 4 year old who was being mauled by dogs. I started panicking, with real heartfelt concern, but then they called my name.
At this Dr's office they always numb my eyeballs TWICE. Why twice? Seriously. I hate the way numb eyeballs feel. I was back to the desire of chucking something.
But I like my new eye dr. She's nice, and helpful, and knowledgeable, and not at all cocky like the rude dr I ditched a few weeks ago. I felt all fuzzy when she was there.
Then I had to go to my other dr to get my paint test results. In the car, the song "Hit Me with Your Best Shot" came on. That is my daughter's favorite Guitar Hero song. And then I thought about my daughter and started to cry.
But then I got out of the car and loudly announced that I had just seen the eye dr to explain the teariness just in case someone in the parking garage thought I was a pansy.
Then I walked past a really expensive car (probably my dr's) on the way in. And I looked at our 1995 Toyota Camry, with it's double cracked windshield, dents and 250,364,942 miles and I felt like keying a nice long scratch in the side of the expensive car. But my keys were in my pocket, and I also felt lazy.
Then I had to wait again and read about some really fun Halloween ideas and I got really really excited (the kids and I are TOTALLY making tie-dye pumpkin t-shirts and breadsticks that look like bones.)
After hearing my bleak (sorry, but you might just have to live with daily pain and aggravation) results I felt depressed.
Then I mentioned to my dr how moody I have been (and possibly he noticed the forest of zits on my chin coupled with the dry frizzy excuse for hair coming off my head) and he sent me over to the lab to get my thyroid tested. It would be nice to blame my thyroidial hormones for all of this, but do I really want something else to be wrong with me? It's a conundrum I tell you.
Oh, and on the way home I stared at the guy next to me at the stoplight who had a big bushy mustache and was holding 4 harmonicas. He was play all of the harmonicas in turn. His mustache moved a lot. Did I mention this guy was also the only passenger of the car which made him the driver. And it just so happened that on the radio at that same exact moment was the song that says, "I think you're crazy. You may be crazy....." over and over. It's like the universe was communicating to me - - about a crazy harmonica playing mustached man.
Comments
Haha.. maybe the moustachioed guy was an anaology of me. ;) Crazy...
And I care. You fast for my bathroom, and I'll fast for your zits. Deal?:)