Oh, netflix

Last week I received an email from Netflix informing me that their shipping system was down and that, of course, dvd shipments were delayed. And they apologized profusely. Then two days later I received that email again, with more apologies and promises of a credit to my account. Their shipping system may be on the skids but I think the Netflix Apology System is working just fine.

Anyway, I got my movies. One of which was Librarian 2. It wasn't as good as the first one except for the part where I got to watch Noah Wyle for an hour and forty five minutes.

well, i'm back to rebounding. maybe I can stick with it this time. Who am I kidding - I'm not good at sticking at anything. But I guess at the very least I'm pretty much always trying something. Pats self on back, winks at self, blows self a little kiss.

So, my hair won't grow. That stinks. If I didn't want it to grow, oh it'd grow all right. One of my claw clips is already in the trash - all three prongs on one side broken off. They just don't make a claw clip big enough or mean enough to hold my hair. Apparently.

I don't see why it has to be so hard to find a decent picture of myself. Or take a decent picture of myself. Because I am officially my own photographer.

observe and conserve

I broke down and went to the doctor. I didn't want to because I'm already paying four other medical bills but my throat was really hurting. Just thinking about swallowing food made me queasy and apprehensive. So now I have antibiotics. I like the way my mind second guesses people. Professional people. The pharmacist explained to me that I had to take the antibiotic twice a day and that I could take the two pills at the same time if I wanted to. And he is a great pharmacist and the pharmacy I use is the best pharmacy in my opinion. And yet I'm standing there nodding my head thinking 'No way will I take those two pills together. That would completely derail my That Which Has Been Implanted In My Brains To Never Do train.' Please note: it's just an antibiotic for crying out loud. Oh no, Wendy, two Omnicefs, at the same time?

I was the only one in the waiting room this afternoon and yet I had to wait 22 minutes before the girl decided to call my name and take my co-pay. And this of course meant I wasn't going to see a doctor before that. I was angry and I showed it... the way that I usually show it. Which basically boils down to something stupid like I don't say "thank you" at the end of the transaction. (I am in the habit of thanking the people who have just taken my money.) And I guess by not smiling and saying "thank you" I am sending a pretty clear message people that I'm not happy! Bet I just ruined her day! Later I felt really ridiculous. And then I actually felt bad because I didn't smile and say thank you. I think I'll write a book called Lamest Examples of Anger.

I would like to give you the following exchange I had with the doctor that saw me this afternoon. She looks in my throat, my ears, listens to my chest. Then she sort of squeezes each of my shins (makes sense I guess. I mean I came in with a sore throat and, huh?) and then she asks me if I might be pregnant. I say no. She asks me if I use birth control and I say yes. Then she asks me if I use it all the time and I say YES, WHY. Because at this point my mind is freaking out. Is squeezing someone's shins a pregnancy test? Then she explained that she just didn't want to prescribe something that could be potentially harmful to a baby. Oh, I see. You know what - the whole conversation still doesn't seem right to me. I think I just didn't seem certain enough about the date of my last period to appease them. It was sort of a bizarre doctor visit.

But anyway, let's talk about my continuation of my craptastic sleeping patterns. I had a hard time sleeping last night, thanks not only to the pain in my throat but to my ability to turn a tiny nugget of worry into a frenetic spinning gaseous planet of worry. See it starts with the one thing that is stressing me out and eventually everything that has ever stressed me out ever in my life gets its opportunity to stress me out again. Hi, remember me! I'm that humiliating episode from 4th grade, tee hee! So I did a lot of staring at the ceiling trying to figure out what I obviously think I need to figure out.

My husband says, "you do realize you are making this into something much bigger than it is." And I tell him "yes I do realize that." You'd think that 'realizing it' would be half the battle but apparently 'realizing it' is more like some idle chatter about a battle that may or may not take place someday.

I feel tedious.