A day in my current life:
Wake up early so newly diagnosed diabetic dog, Lucky, can eat 7am meal and receive insulin dose, and I can get to Cynthiana by 9am for a meeting.
Realize I forgot the wonderful, lifesaving housekeeper is scheduled to be at the house at 8, and that I won't be home. Text the garage code to her from bed, and because she's already figured me out, she kindly reminds me to leave her check on the counter. Thank God because I would not have done so. #ADHD
Get out of bed to discover my broken toe looks like a Vienna Sausage and left hip bursitis is on full alert.
Feel super sorry for myself. Consider getting back in bed to cry and pull the covers up over my head.
Realize that is not a valid option, get out of bed, hobble to bathroom and steal my husband's stronger NSAIDs he uses for his back. (It's not a narcotic, just sayin.)
Pick up random shit in bedroom, bathroom and office so wonderful housekeeper doesn't think we are complete pigs.
Hobble downstairs to begin diabetic dog care, encounter dog turds on carpet and floor, a gift from "The Pug," (AKA Roscoe). Drop the F-Bomb.
Chop up chicken to mix with dog food, and feed Lucky. Calculate money spent on cans of chicken in the past two weeks and wonder if I can find an additional part-time job.
Get insulin out of fridge and draw up 8 units. Wait for dog to eat while picking up turds off floor. Feel sad, mixed with mad, mixed with, "FML."
Realize child left dishes in sink last night. Wash dishes.
Grab Lucky to give insulin shot. Find his hair is so long because I forgot to schedule grooming appointments, that I can't find his actual skin, and somehow jab my OWN FINGER with the needle. As. A. Trained. Medical. Professional. Drop the F-Bomb, begin bleeding. Attempt to find his skin again. Inject Lucky, instead of myself.
Start getting ready for work, only to find pants do not fit. The pants I bought because the last pants did not fit. Experience the typical shame, guilt, and self-hatred I've experienced the past 30 years related to this body.
Attempt to find a pair of pants that will fit. Continue to be sad and defeated.
Stuff Vienna Sausage into a shoe. Drop the F-Bomb.
Grab the pile of clothes that don't fit referred to as "the pile of shame" to take to work to give to tiny co-worker. Continue to feel sad because there are more where that came from waiting to be sorted.
Ensure 17 year old child is actually going to school and alarms are set for remembering to walk to the bus. #ADHD
Ensure diabetic dog is not in a coma.
Child walks by on her way out the door and informs me that there are dog turds on the floor. Yeahhh. Thanks.
Greet fantastic housekeeper and alert her that there may be turds somewhere, so be on the lookout, and apologize in advance.
Walk around at work on Vienna Sausage and bursitis-ridden hip. Continue to feel sad and old.
Feel brain literally melting out of ears due to the state of overwhelm that is work. Feel shame for feeling overwhelmed.
Finally get brave enough to purchase pregnancy test after 40-plus days of nada, nothin', zilch (see pregnancy post).
Pee on stick, pray to all the entities and universe, avoid looking at stick while BFF waits for my text.
Mutter "thank effing goodness" when the stick shows the vasectomy and 48 year old eggs still seem to be keeping babies at bay.
Text BFF that there is no need for quick get-away.
Feel guilty for feeling sorry for myself while people are in the middle of wars, cancer, and all matters of atrocity.
Shame myself some more for good measure for not being happy and nice all the time.
Go to bed. Roll around in full-spectrum CBD lotion, huff a bottle of lavender-scented essential oil spray, swallow evening dose of pills, add some Melatonin to the mix.
Continue to feel guilt and shame for not being super happy all damn day.
Eventually fall asleep. Dream people are chasing me through a maze with no end.
Wake up next day. Hope there are no turds. Carry on.