(no subject)
Update on Loser Texting Boy: He texted me back sixteen hours later, in the middle of Conference, which told me all I needed to know about hm. Still, I figured I had to give it my best shot just to say I did, and in response I got this text: "I play tuba." I said something else and never got another response ever. So that takes care of that, and he's been deleted off my contacts list.
It's such a relief. I almost thought I had to go on a date--dodged a bullet there!
On a completely different topic, Harry and I planned a movie shindig back in August that was to take place in October, so I dutifully met up with him Friday night. He kindly offered to drive so I didn't have to, which I'll admit, is my favorite thing. Don't know how he knows I'm not a huge fan of driving (except for when I am--don't ask, it's complicated), but I took him up on it because then I didn't have to try and pretend like I remember where he lives.
He has a bunker in his backyard, so we spent the evening down there as that is where the TV is. There's an inflatable couch down there, which I squished onto with Harry and his friend.........Adam. I think. But it was cold and we weren't squished enough for body heat to help keep me warm, so basically I just bitterly regretted not bringing a mountain of blankets. If there is ever a next time, I'm bringing every blanket I own.
I got sick within 24 hours, which may or may not be related, but I've been telling everyone I know that the cold bunker got me sick because that sounds way cooler than "I caught a germ somewhere."
And now it's Fall Break and I've so far spent the entirety of it lying in my bed pretending like this is helping me get better. (Fact: it's not.) I have done zero productive things, because reading sounds hard and writing sounds harder, so I've flip-flopped between watching Netflix and surfing the internet. It's a truly glamorous way to spend my break.
I did get talked into going to the doctor, because I was having a hard time breathing and Matthew said I might be dying of pneumonia (story only partially true). I went in, but it was at a fabulous moment when I wasn't being afflicted by anything other than breathing issues, so the doctor declared me on the mend and then strongarmed me into getting a tetanus shot and signing up for a pap smear. I'm weak, so I gave in to both, but I maintained a strong front and turned down the cholesterol testing. It sounded like it had needles and that's a no-go in my life. But now I have a tetanus booster (which admittedly was 5 years overdue) and I'm awaiting a phonecall from a gynocologist so we can set up an appointment for me to be placed in the most undignified manner possible and suffer through discomfort and pain all in the name of not dying of cervical cancer.
Clearly, I'm looking forward to this.
Anywho, the doctor told me I'd be fine, but today has put the lie to his words and I've felt much worse than I did yesterday. What that means is I avoided calling the doctor again (they're USELESS and they POKE you with things!) and have generally hoped God would take pity on my soul and fix me, since I already condescended once to seeing a medical professional.
Some day I'm going to die from a perfectly curable cancer, and on my tombstone they'll inscribe "she wouldn't go to the doctor." And then I'll be upset up in heaven (or down in hell, whichever) because I wanted my tombstone to read "She's dead, Jim," or better yet, to have no tombstone at all because I want to be turned into a gemstone and placed on a necklace so I can sparkle for eternity.
So there you have it.
It's such a relief. I almost thought I had to go on a date--dodged a bullet there!
On a completely different topic, Harry and I planned a movie shindig back in August that was to take place in October, so I dutifully met up with him Friday night. He kindly offered to drive so I didn't have to, which I'll admit, is my favorite thing. Don't know how he knows I'm not a huge fan of driving (except for when I am--don't ask, it's complicated), but I took him up on it because then I didn't have to try and pretend like I remember where he lives.
He has a bunker in his backyard, so we spent the evening down there as that is where the TV is. There's an inflatable couch down there, which I squished onto with Harry and his friend.........Adam. I think. But it was cold and we weren't squished enough for body heat to help keep me warm, so basically I just bitterly regretted not bringing a mountain of blankets. If there is ever a next time, I'm bringing every blanket I own.
I got sick within 24 hours, which may or may not be related, but I've been telling everyone I know that the cold bunker got me sick because that sounds way cooler than "I caught a germ somewhere."
And now it's Fall Break and I've so far spent the entirety of it lying in my bed pretending like this is helping me get better. (Fact: it's not.) I have done zero productive things, because reading sounds hard and writing sounds harder, so I've flip-flopped between watching Netflix and surfing the internet. It's a truly glamorous way to spend my break.
I did get talked into going to the doctor, because I was having a hard time breathing and Matthew said I might be dying of pneumonia (story only partially true). I went in, but it was at a fabulous moment when I wasn't being afflicted by anything other than breathing issues, so the doctor declared me on the mend and then strongarmed me into getting a tetanus shot and signing up for a pap smear. I'm weak, so I gave in to both, but I maintained a strong front and turned down the cholesterol testing. It sounded like it had needles and that's a no-go in my life. But now I have a tetanus booster (which admittedly was 5 years overdue) and I'm awaiting a phonecall from a gynocologist so we can set up an appointment for me to be placed in the most undignified manner possible and suffer through discomfort and pain all in the name of not dying of cervical cancer.
Clearly, I'm looking forward to this.
Anywho, the doctor told me I'd be fine, but today has put the lie to his words and I've felt much worse than I did yesterday. What that means is I avoided calling the doctor again (they're USELESS and they POKE you with things!) and have generally hoped God would take pity on my soul and fix me, since I already condescended once to seeing a medical professional.
Some day I'm going to die from a perfectly curable cancer, and on my tombstone they'll inscribe "she wouldn't go to the doctor." And then I'll be upset up in heaven (or down in hell, whichever) because I wanted my tombstone to read "She's dead, Jim," or better yet, to have no tombstone at all because I want to be turned into a gemstone and placed on a necklace so I can sparkle for eternity.
So there you have it.