I have most certainly earned some bad juju somehow. Someone has a voodoo doll. The universe is trying to test me. Something 👏🏼 Is 👏🏼 Happening.
Get Up. Dog. Food. Insulin. Get ready.
Garage. Wait - where’s my car?? Husband has it. My work badge is in it. Oh well.
Adjust seat to accommodate short legs. Remember that you hate driving this car because the seatbelt chokes you and has the furry padded thing on it that feels like driving with a small rodent on your chest.
Get ready to drive off. Reading glasses missing.
Drive to PT. Fifteen minutes late. Wore skirt. Forgot shorts. NEEDLES IN HIP AND FOOT.
Go to work. No time for actual work, just meetings.
Schedule ”crucial conversation,” that immediately results in an IBS “event.” 👀
Fret that it is likely colon cancer and not anxiety causing frequent “events.” Text BFF. Do I have colon cancer?
Phone begins to send me colon cancer screening ads.
Empty purse of ample supply of GI meds in hopes of making it through the rest of the day. Have 2 1/2 hour crucial conversation.
Receive welfare check text messages from coworkers ensuring I‘m not in anyone‘s trunk.
Receive text from daughter wondering “who is picking her up from school.”
Um. No one. Shit. Make sure child secures ride home from a better, less insane mother.
Go to AVOL board meeting to be interviewed as new board member candidate. Show up 10 minutes late, realize you were first on agenda and they’ve moved on.
Great first impression. Apologize for being late, ramble about yourself, wonder if you are even remotely addressing what they want to know.
Leave the room for vote.
Somehow get approved.
Pick up child from the mom who didn’t abandon her kid.
Hear child yell, “ Mommmmm… Lucky had diarrhea all over my room.” Because of course he did.
Cleaning supplies. Shop Vac.
Scrubbing. On knees. In skirt. 90 minutes.
Ramen for first meal of the day. In bed. Ramen spilled.
Complete and utter surrender. Crawl under covers.
Realize you start tomorrow at 0800 with another crucial conversation. Hope for no IBS “event.” Out of Pepto.
Hope for ability to figure out how to break the cycle to avoid prison or asylum. Five weeks until vacation. If I make it.