i hate god. nothing else can be said.
I'm having the worst week ever.
Well, for me. I'm sure there are starving kids in India who'd be a little pissed off at that last statement.
For me, this week can only end in my death, or severe maiming.
Observe:
Monday:
Trip on a milk crate at work (shhh, don't laugh, I'm not done) and hurt my shin terribly. Fill out accident report and go to the campus nurse, who informs me that all she can do is wrap it and give me an ice pack. But. I may want to pay attention tonight and tomorrow morning to be sure it isn't broken, or fractured. I say, "How will I know, as I've never broken anything before?" She says I'll probably figure it out.
Have to have campus saftey drive me to my house because I can't walk, with the single crutch she gave me or no.
End up going to the emergancy room just in case where I wait around for 3 or 4 hours for the doctor to tell me I'm fine, gives me 2 vicoden and throws me out the door. Okay, wheels me out. Apparently I have a contusion.
Tuesday: Wake up and notice huge, Nike swoosh shaped eggplant bruise on my other thigh. Gorgeous.
Get to school in my car, get a parking pass, lock my keys in my car. Blame the vicoden from the night before. Eventually (read: as soon as I get back to my car and figure it out) call locksmith who takes and hour and a half longer than they said to get to my car. Thus, I miss the class I otherwise could have made by waiting around for them.
He comes right as I'm about to attemt unlocking it myself with a coathanger. He laughs and says it would never work. He tries unlocking my back passenger door, doesn't work, but gets the back drivers one.
He broke the back passenger door, so it won't unlock, or open. But, as I was so happy he showed up at all, hadn't realized that yet, so signed off saying all was well.
Wednesday:
Discover that my female cat (we have a girl and a neutered male, who hates her) is in heat, which is fine, except she's being loud and insane. We don't let her out, so it's insanity all night long. This is all for today, I think.
Thursday:
Discover that my case for ADD is getting stronger and stronger, it only took about 4 or 5 failed classes for people to notice. Swell. Oh, and on top of needing to be tested for that, I also may have (probably have) allergies and asthma.
My body is breaking down around me. By the time I'm thirty, I'll be a ruined shell of a person, weighing roughly 342 pounds, if I keep going at this rate.
Friday:
Better known as today. Went pretty decently, all things considered. I was going to have a quiet night over at a friends house, a darling boy I hardly ever see, just watchins some TV. Then my roommate asks me to drive her to the bus stop. Excellent, no problem. But my car won't start. It's sick. It sounds like Nicole Kidman (Satine) at the end of Moulin Rouge.
No TV for me, no bonding over Stargate, oh no. I have to watch bloody Everybody Loves Raymond when, in fact, I don't.
I started this week in an excellent mood, and have pretty much greeted everything that came my way with a little shrug and a laugh and, "Oh well, what next, a meteor?" Thank god I got my prescriptions filled earlier today.
My car not starting was really the last straw, the one that turned everything into a giant mess.
All that and I didn't even mention anything emotional like relationships, or awful people, or anything.
This is a rant, I really, really, don't need anyone to say "Oh it could be worse, buck up!" because if you've been feeling low, I imagine you know how patronizing that sounds. I wish someone would actually come to my door and say that though, because I imagine hitting someone would feel really good right now.
Well, for me. I'm sure there are starving kids in India who'd be a little pissed off at that last statement.
For me, this week can only end in my death, or severe maiming.
Observe:
Monday:
Trip on a milk crate at work (shhh, don't laugh, I'm not done) and hurt my shin terribly. Fill out accident report and go to the campus nurse, who informs me that all she can do is wrap it and give me an ice pack. But. I may want to pay attention tonight and tomorrow morning to be sure it isn't broken, or fractured. I say, "How will I know, as I've never broken anything before?" She says I'll probably figure it out.
Have to have campus saftey drive me to my house because I can't walk, with the single crutch she gave me or no.
End up going to the emergancy room just in case where I wait around for 3 or 4 hours for the doctor to tell me I'm fine, gives me 2 vicoden and throws me out the door. Okay, wheels me out. Apparently I have a contusion.
Tuesday: Wake up and notice huge, Nike swoosh shaped eggplant bruise on my other thigh. Gorgeous.
Get to school in my car, get a parking pass, lock my keys in my car. Blame the vicoden from the night before. Eventually (read: as soon as I get back to my car and figure it out) call locksmith who takes and hour and a half longer than they said to get to my car. Thus, I miss the class I otherwise could have made by waiting around for them.
He comes right as I'm about to attemt unlocking it myself with a coathanger. He laughs and says it would never work. He tries unlocking my back passenger door, doesn't work, but gets the back drivers one.
He broke the back passenger door, so it won't unlock, or open. But, as I was so happy he showed up at all, hadn't realized that yet, so signed off saying all was well.
Wednesday:
Discover that my female cat (we have a girl and a neutered male, who hates her) is in heat, which is fine, except she's being loud and insane. We don't let her out, so it's insanity all night long. This is all for today, I think.
Thursday:
Discover that my case for ADD is getting stronger and stronger, it only took about 4 or 5 failed classes for people to notice. Swell. Oh, and on top of needing to be tested for that, I also may have (probably have) allergies and asthma.
My body is breaking down around me. By the time I'm thirty, I'll be a ruined shell of a person, weighing roughly 342 pounds, if I keep going at this rate.
Friday:
Better known as today. Went pretty decently, all things considered. I was going to have a quiet night over at a friends house, a darling boy I hardly ever see, just watchins some TV. Then my roommate asks me to drive her to the bus stop. Excellent, no problem. But my car won't start. It's sick. It sounds like Nicole Kidman (Satine) at the end of Moulin Rouge.
No TV for me, no bonding over Stargate, oh no. I have to watch bloody Everybody Loves Raymond when, in fact, I don't.
I started this week in an excellent mood, and have pretty much greeted everything that came my way with a little shrug and a laugh and, "Oh well, what next, a meteor?" Thank god I got my prescriptions filled earlier today.
My car not starting was really the last straw, the one that turned everything into a giant mess.
All that and I didn't even mention anything emotional like relationships, or awful people, or anything.
This is a rant, I really, really, don't need anyone to say "Oh it could be worse, buck up!" because if you've been feeling low, I imagine you know how patronizing that sounds. I wish someone would actually come to my door and say that though, because I imagine hitting someone would feel really good right now.