Rather than sitting around in a Tylenol 3 haze (yeah. Tylenol fucking 3. They might as well have given me snake oil and Skittles. And boy, OH BOY, were they harsh about handing that out) and feeling acutely sorry for myself, which is actually what I have been doing since Saturday, I decided to turn that frown upside down, motherfucker, and take care of some motherfucking business.
Even I have my limits of feeling so sorry for myself and I hit it yesterday in the ER while I wept openly and loudly as the poor insurance dude tried to extract the handy Blue Cross from my grubby hands. I was unable to get it for myself as the nurse practitioner thought it fit to elevate my shame level to Extreme Shame by inserting a foley catheter into my delicate bladder. WITH NO PAIN MEDS. If you’ve had one before while you were able to feel it, you’ll know the excruciating pain that this causes.
This was before they realized I had a massive bladder infection.
So yes, if you were sitting in the ER in the room next to mine (you’d know mine because it had one of two bathrooms on the floor entrance in it. Which made things EVEN better. Nothing says “I LOVE life!!” like having to sit writhing in pain WHILE LISTENING TO SOME GERIATRIC BLOW ASS!) I apologize for the weeping and moaning. You see, I was ALONE and IN PAIN and full of THE SHAME.
I’m still fairly under the weather as far as pain and general malaise goes, but I refuse to sit around moping and groaning. So I did the only thing I could think to do: I hoisted my swollen guts up from the computer (I look about 5 months pregnant right now), I planted some patches on the lawn and once the sun goes down I’m going to plant me some motherfucking roses.
The people that we bought our house from appeared to be allergic to any yard work, something we didn’t realize when we moved in during February (not this year, thankyouGod), and left us with some awesome chores. Like a rose bush so overgrown that my next door neighbors put up some trellises to block the view. And massive patches in the back lawn from a trampoline and rabid (I can only imagine) dogs that I could safely have moved my queen-sized bed into. And bridal bushes so wild that they killed the grass for 7 feet in front of them.
The latter is what was taken care of today and I feel pretty pleased with myself (when don’t I?).
I’m not going to call this a comeback or anything, well, maybe I am, but it looks like the Universe is righting itself again for me. Must have been the bourbon and hot dogs I promised it.
What do you guys do to make yourself feel better when you’re down in the dumps and feeling rather pathetically pathetic?