In Which I Kindly Share My Pain With You
Today was a day in which I will have no regrets upon its passing.
In fact, it can't pass soon enough, as far as I am concerned. I'm thinking of taking a Tylenol PM and making it pass right now.
I am back to being full-blown hypothyroid again, I can feel it. My body is telling me in some no uncertain terms, and it sucks, people. Of all the times of the year for my thyroid to throw in the towel, this is probably not the best. I have no energy, I need ten hours of sleep, and I'm as bitchy as hell.
Nice, huh?
But enough of that particular pity party, I have bigger and better pity parties to throw.
First, I thought the car was going to blow up on me as I was driving it today. The engine light came on. Unsettling, but I can deal. Then, the light that indicates what "drive" you are in (such as P for park, R for reverse and such) began blinking. Yes, blinking. Have any of you ever been driving and see that begin to blink? I never have in my life and it freaked me out. But, that was nothing compared to the fact that the speedometer stopped working. Here I was driving down the street, yet the speedometer showed a big fat 0. Never even moved. Again, a little freaky. So I am going down this big hill and this asshat starts tailgating me, and I seriously have no idea if he has any right to be tailgating me, because I have no idea how fast I am going. It's not a good feeling, I highly recommend you avoid driving like that at all possible cost.
Earlier, I was at Toys R Us. Woe betide anyone venturing into this forsaken place this close to Christmas. You can smell the desperation. Anyhoo, I was actually there for my sister, who is getting Mr. P one of those Fisher Price digital cameras for kids. I ask a clerk if they have any. She said no, they had gotten a truck with some yesterday, but that someone came and bought all thirty off the truck. At first, I didn't really think about that. Then, at home, I thought that really sucked they let someone take the entire inventory in one shot at Christmas. Because who the hell is buying thirty of those cameras? I gaurantee it is someone who is going to hawk them on Ebay for double the price. The only way I would be cool with it would be if the person bought them for an orphanage or something, but the Ebay thing is the most plausible explanation. Bastards. I am bitchy enough that I think I will call the manager tomorrow and complain. It can't hurt, and it may possibly make me feel better. I'm all about sharing the pain.
Then, I'm on the phone with my Dad, frantically trying to assess the car situation. And because I have been so talented with the conversation recaps lately, I'll continue with the trend. I swear this is verbatim.
Me: Ok, so you think the car isn't all that bad, just a bad cable, blah blah blah... (well, maybe that part isn't verbatim)
Dad: Yes, look honey, I've got to go. We are under chemical attack over here.
Me: (goggling) Wha?
Dad: Someone sent us a package filled with chemicals, and I can taste that there's something wrong. I've got to go.
Click.
Me: (freaking out to Hubba-hubba) Oh MY GOD my Dad just poisioned himself! Why would he taste a chemical that he thinks is hazardous? Oh my God! Is he on his way to the hospital? What was he thinking?
Hubba-hubba: Well, was it you? Were you distracting him enough that he did that without thinking?
Me: Oh my God! I would certainly hope not!
This went on for a while. I called my Dad back about forty five minutes later. He answered and told me the Haz-Mat team was just leaving. I asked him rather calmly if he had tasted the chemical. He laughed. He said what he meant was that that noxious fumes were emanating from the package and he could sort of "taste" the wrongness of it in the air. I didn't laugh. I said that he should maybe phrase things a bit more carefully next time before he winds up giving me a heart attack.
Then, my son put a small object that he could have choked on in his mouth, and I promptly screamed at him, terrfying him and making me feel like the world's biggest heel at the same time. Yet, how else to convey the utter horror and badness of putting small objects into one's mouth? It's been done gently in the past, and apparently that didn't work.
Now, have I shared enough of my pain and crabbiness so that you wish my day was already over too, for heavens sake?
Well, at least this post is.
In fact, it can't pass soon enough, as far as I am concerned. I'm thinking of taking a Tylenol PM and making it pass right now.
I am back to being full-blown hypothyroid again, I can feel it. My body is telling me in some no uncertain terms, and it sucks, people. Of all the times of the year for my thyroid to throw in the towel, this is probably not the best. I have no energy, I need ten hours of sleep, and I'm as bitchy as hell.
Nice, huh?
But enough of that particular pity party, I have bigger and better pity parties to throw.
First, I thought the car was going to blow up on me as I was driving it today. The engine light came on. Unsettling, but I can deal. Then, the light that indicates what "drive" you are in (such as P for park, R for reverse and such) began blinking. Yes, blinking. Have any of you ever been driving and see that begin to blink? I never have in my life and it freaked me out. But, that was nothing compared to the fact that the speedometer stopped working. Here I was driving down the street, yet the speedometer showed a big fat 0. Never even moved. Again, a little freaky. So I am going down this big hill and this asshat starts tailgating me, and I seriously have no idea if he has any right to be tailgating me, because I have no idea how fast I am going. It's not a good feeling, I highly recommend you avoid driving like that at all possible cost.
Earlier, I was at Toys R Us. Woe betide anyone venturing into this forsaken place this close to Christmas. You can smell the desperation. Anyhoo, I was actually there for my sister, who is getting Mr. P one of those Fisher Price digital cameras for kids. I ask a clerk if they have any. She said no, they had gotten a truck with some yesterday, but that someone came and bought all thirty off the truck. At first, I didn't really think about that. Then, at home, I thought that really sucked they let someone take the entire inventory in one shot at Christmas. Because who the hell is buying thirty of those cameras? I gaurantee it is someone who is going to hawk them on Ebay for double the price. The only way I would be cool with it would be if the person bought them for an orphanage or something, but the Ebay thing is the most plausible explanation. Bastards. I am bitchy enough that I think I will call the manager tomorrow and complain. It can't hurt, and it may possibly make me feel better. I'm all about sharing the pain.
Then, I'm on the phone with my Dad, frantically trying to assess the car situation. And because I have been so talented with the conversation recaps lately, I'll continue with the trend. I swear this is verbatim.
Me: Ok, so you think the car isn't all that bad, just a bad cable, blah blah blah... (well, maybe that part isn't verbatim)
Dad: Yes, look honey, I've got to go. We are under chemical attack over here.
Me: (goggling) Wha?
Dad: Someone sent us a package filled with chemicals, and I can taste that there's something wrong. I've got to go.
Click.
Me: (freaking out to Hubba-hubba) Oh MY GOD my Dad just poisioned himself! Why would he taste a chemical that he thinks is hazardous? Oh my God! Is he on his way to the hospital? What was he thinking?
Hubba-hubba: Well, was it you? Were you distracting him enough that he did that without thinking?
Me: Oh my God! I would certainly hope not!
This went on for a while. I called my Dad back about forty five minutes later. He answered and told me the Haz-Mat team was just leaving. I asked him rather calmly if he had tasted the chemical. He laughed. He said what he meant was that that noxious fumes were emanating from the package and he could sort of "taste" the wrongness of it in the air. I didn't laugh. I said that he should maybe phrase things a bit more carefully next time before he winds up giving me a heart attack.
Then, my son put a small object that he could have choked on in his mouth, and I promptly screamed at him, terrfying him and making me feel like the world's biggest heel at the same time. Yet, how else to convey the utter horror and badness of putting small objects into one's mouth? It's been done gently in the past, and apparently that didn't work.
Now, have I shared enough of my pain and crabbiness so that you wish my day was already over too, for heavens sake?
Well, at least this post is.
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