Run. Hide.

Trust me...

I find that I've been laughing at myself all day and just had to share a bit of it. Surprisingly, this has nothing to do with a mirror...

At some point last night, I decided to start several domestic projects. {Enter fits of laughter here.} If you all only knew how funny that is. Between last night and today, I cleaned the vents, removed an old faucet to put on the new, did laundry (including pretreating), did a sweep for cobwebs, dusted the bathroom floor and mopped it. Twice (damned hairspray). Then I tackled the mirror, sink, and counters. I also cleaned out the desk which included tossing old paperwork and organizing the free-floating pages that have plagued me since they got here. As I handled that task, I chatted online to my HP help specialist-person-thingy for about an hour and a half. End result? LiVEwiRe gets a new disc... hoo-friggin'rah. That was well worth it, eh? Now it all becomes clear why I had to be routed overseas to have that handled. In addition, all registration and warranty paperwork from recent electronic-gadgety-things has been completed and is ready to be placed in the mail tomorrow. My CDs have been straightened up and my car has had a light cleaning. Yes, I've admittedly missed a couple of doses of lithium this past week but this is not related, I assure you. However, this is all rather uncharacteristic for me. But on the bright side, I haven't broken a nail yet! =)

For my next trick (and this here is a biiiig one}... I went to the grocery store. Blech! I hate going there. I want to press my body to the floor and have a good old kicking and screaming fit when I get there, just like a six year old. Sheesh, and they don't even have to pay for it! What the hell are they whining about?! Anyway - in my eyes, this is truly like one of Dante's levels of hell for me. Many of the key players were there already when I got there: Woman with gaggle of grubby ill-mannered children. You know, the one who lets her four year old push the two year old in the bulky plastic cart shaped like a car? Later I usually find her lingering in the beer aisle; it is no wonder. I also met with the person in the electric wheelchair with the cart attached and their trusty sidekick "yes-my-parts-allow-me-to-assist-my-friend-in-the-chair-and-just-to-show-you-how-well-I-can-do-that-I-will-stand-in-your-God-damned-way-and-block-the-aisle-passage-every-freakin-chance-I-get." Yes, technically that is a long name for a sidekick but hey, that's the way things are classified in nature, what can I say? I will say that one of my favorites is the little old 'out of control' man. Well, it's more his cart that is out of control. He always comes at you from around the corner at the end of the aisle on what appears to be two wheels; mexicorn, bran flakes, fruit cocktail and bacon all skidding to the opposite end of the cart. He never has much in there yet maneuvers that metal beast as if it were hauling a half ton of coal or something. I also got the pleasure of running into (almost literally) the kid who sings/screams throughout the store (mom has no input) and the guy who runs with the cart, picking up speed then jumps on in an attempt to make the aforementioned three year old quiet down. Yeah, in this case it was my cousin, her boyfriend and one of their sons. Did I ever mention how proud I am of my family?...

But here's the absolute best part of all. Here's what I bought that was not on the list. Mocha fraps, apricot danish, Pim's biscuits (orange), chocolate mint cookies, hazelnut biscuits, chocolate/vanilla marble ice cream, grape soda (for purple cows) and rootbeer soda (floats), peanut butter and chocolate pudding...

WooHoo!!! Can you say P.M.S.?

Ok... so just to round out this little session of honesty here, I'm going to address one final aspect of my episodic PMS behavior. Boys... be forewarned...

Are the boys otherwise occupied at this time? Good. I don't know about anyone else but the influx of hormones really tends to have certain effect on me. I am this close (my fingers are almost touching...) to just taking a man, throwing him down and completely having my way him. The way I feel, there wouldn't be enough left over for the vultures... No, I mean it's really bad. I go back to work tomorrow and I find myself thinking that I would have some damn fine targets there. Boys that are under the weather and can't move quickly; is it a bad thing to think of patients as sexual targets? Heh heh... just one more service our hospital offers...

So it would appear that I have become a highly domestic, sugar craving whore this month. Just wish I could focus more on the whore part. Meh, maybe next month.

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