Much Ado About Nothing
This morning, Ben got up late. I hauled my ass out of bed, got the Moosebaby dressed and ready, bid them adieu, and got in the shower. I was nearly finished with my shower when I heard Ben come into the room. I figured he forgot something--turns out, he did.
He forgot how to operate our stupid alarm clock and we'd been operating under the assumption it was an hour later than it really was.
Great way to start a Monday, don't you think?
Oh, but it got worse. Finding myself without any pantyhose that didn't contain 4 or 5 runs up each leg, I decided to just stop on my way to work and pick up a pair. Except my first stop was my new nemesis (CVS)--not only do they not have any non-handicap parking close to the store, they also don't open until 8, and you have to be damn near inside the store before you can see the tiny letters proclaiming as much on the door. Grrr. So I stopped at Walgreens (which should have been my first choice) and drove to work, where I took my purchase into the restroom to put them on.
I tend to buy the super-mega-industrial-strength-control-top variety of hosiery, mostly because I'm a lardass but also because they tend to be more durable and last longer. The problem is that the first time one dons a pair of these spandex monsters, one is rendered immobile once they reach one's knees. This is fine when one is sitting on a bed or a chair or a floor or anywhere; not so good when one is in an office restroom stall. So there I am with my skirt around my waist and my new hosiery around my knees and I start...to...tip. Fortunately, I was in the handicap stall complete with a guardrail. Otherwise, that may have ended very badly.
Then I discover the federal court has made a ruling on one of our uglier cases that will likely serve to make the next week and a half a living hell. Yippee!
Then I start getting emails from Bob's teacher about what a junior douchebag he's been today. He's now expanded his repertoire by including 4-letter words to his antics. And don't blame me for this--I may talk like a drunken sailor around adults, but I have made it a stern policy not to utter any obscenities around the child since he started repeating everything I said at the age of 1. Apparently his behavior became so disruptive and unruly that after he decided to leave class of his own accord and go to the office, the assistant principal decided to just keep him there for the day and send for his work from the classroom. He spent the entire afternoon in the office working quietly and having a jolly old time. Which drives me nuts, because obviously he just couldn't handle being in class today, and I understand that on the one hand, but on the other, it's like, "tough shit, kid--I can't handle being at work like, ever, but I still have to shut up and just do it."
So, since our health insurance is about to become shitty as of January 1, I decided to make some phone calls to see about getting him in to a different shrink. My first choice, Wash U, is booked solid through APRIL and they've stopped taking our insurance anyway. My second choice is booked into January and since we'll have a deductible then, they'll insist on full payment for the first visit prior to said visit. So I guess that means my only hope is that one of the Obama girls will be diagnosed with bipolar disorder this year and he'll add "effective and affordable mental health care for children" to his list of priorities. Otherwise, we're fucked. As usual.
And I broke a nail.
And I'm bored.
And I'm fat.
And it's only mid-November.
I'm going to go cry myself to sleep now.
He forgot how to operate our stupid alarm clock and we'd been operating under the assumption it was an hour later than it really was.
Great way to start a Monday, don't you think?
Oh, but it got worse. Finding myself without any pantyhose that didn't contain 4 or 5 runs up each leg, I decided to just stop on my way to work and pick up a pair. Except my first stop was my new nemesis (CVS)--not only do they not have any non-handicap parking close to the store, they also don't open until 8, and you have to be damn near inside the store before you can see the tiny letters proclaiming as much on the door. Grrr. So I stopped at Walgreens (which should have been my first choice) and drove to work, where I took my purchase into the restroom to put them on.
I tend to buy the super-mega-industrial-strength-control-top variety of hosiery, mostly because I'm a lardass but also because they tend to be more durable and last longer. The problem is that the first time one dons a pair of these spandex monsters, one is rendered immobile once they reach one's knees. This is fine when one is sitting on a bed or a chair or a floor or anywhere; not so good when one is in an office restroom stall. So there I am with my skirt around my waist and my new hosiery around my knees and I start...to...tip. Fortunately, I was in the handicap stall complete with a guardrail. Otherwise, that may have ended very badly.
Then I discover the federal court has made a ruling on one of our uglier cases that will likely serve to make the next week and a half a living hell. Yippee!
Then I start getting emails from Bob's teacher about what a junior douchebag he's been today. He's now expanded his repertoire by including 4-letter words to his antics. And don't blame me for this--I may talk like a drunken sailor around adults, but I have made it a stern policy not to utter any obscenities around the child since he started repeating everything I said at the age of 1. Apparently his behavior became so disruptive and unruly that after he decided to leave class of his own accord and go to the office, the assistant principal decided to just keep him there for the day and send for his work from the classroom. He spent the entire afternoon in the office working quietly and having a jolly old time. Which drives me nuts, because obviously he just couldn't handle being in class today, and I understand that on the one hand, but on the other, it's like, "tough shit, kid--I can't handle being at work like, ever, but I still have to shut up and just do it."
So, since our health insurance is about to become shitty as of January 1, I decided to make some phone calls to see about getting him in to a different shrink. My first choice, Wash U, is booked solid through APRIL and they've stopped taking our insurance anyway. My second choice is booked into January and since we'll have a deductible then, they'll insist on full payment for the first visit prior to said visit. So I guess that means my only hope is that one of the Obama girls will be diagnosed with bipolar disorder this year and he'll add "effective and affordable mental health care for children" to his list of priorities. Otherwise, we're fucked. As usual.
And I broke a nail.
And I'm bored.
And I'm fat.
And it's only mid-November.
I'm going to go cry myself to sleep now.
posted by Mitzi Green at 7:08 PM
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