Mini-Mayhem Meltdown #2

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.