This was not a good day. I mean, as they say, the Lord woke me up this morning, so it's a good day...but that was pretty much all downhill from there.
spend about an hour trying to get our general practicioners office to answer their phone. Fine, I will take my sorry-ass, poverty-stricken, uninsured hypochondriac business elsewhere. That'll show 'em.
I raced out of the house on multiple missions, trying to get the shirts to the cleaners, the kid out of the house, the deposit to the bank, and back in time to get my car to the shop so they could tell me why the check engine light is on.
But, aha, one tire is completely flat.
great, unstrap the kid, move the shirts and etcs over to Eric's car. Make him come outside to bring me the key. Which I instantly lose, and spend a good 15 min looking for, crawling under the car, feeling through piles of leaves, whatever.
It was in Eric's pocket. Hey, at least his car's clean now.
The kid and I go on missions, Eric stays home and waits for the auto club guy, who changes my tire. Hey, at least my trunk's clean now. Unfortunately, my back seat is full.
Missions accomplished; I come home and make a pile of pancakes, which everyone eats. That was nice.
we all go and drop off my car; Ian falls asleep in the car, and we drive around for a while and then stop for burgers. They were pretty good.
Husband calls the shop, and finds out that I need 4 new tires, an oil change and a freaking CATALYTIC CONVERTER which costs AS MUCH AS A WHOLE CAR USED TO.
This is the point at which I begin to despair.
As we drive, we construct a rationale for putting off the catalytic converter replacement, and worry ourselves into a lather wondering about the price of special-order low-resistance tires.
blah blah blah, we're at the dealership for more than an hour for this and that. I am somehow able to keep from crying during this time.
We come home. Kid eats a hot dog and watched Charlie Brown Christmas on dvd. I cry surprisingly little.
I find a general practicioner in the Yellow Pages. I call his office, and the doctor himself answers the phone, and LISTENS TO ME TALK ABOUT MY SYMPTOMS. And tells me he will see me tomorrow. And what to do in the meantime. I will have to ask to him about his Uninsured Hypochondriac discount program.
While husband puts kid to bed, I go to the grocery store. Things are bruisingly expensive, and yet it cheers me up some - it is hard for me to feel despair in the grocery store. (Interestingly, I once experienced what I believe was a psychotic break in a grocery store - the Giant on Rolling Road in Baltimore. So I guess it's not actually impossible.)
I come home, put some beans to soak, and watch The Grinch, which is colored so brilliantly that I have to think it's been digitally remastered since last year.
I am still sad, still worried about a lot of things (and unable to discern what's a real, serious thing that I should be taking care of and what's just bad brain chemicals triggered by grief.) Still wayyyy tooo short-tempered with my kid. Still thinking of things that could go better at work.
I am ready for something different.