Happy Easter

I woke up a little disoriented this morning. Sometime in the middle of night my back started giving me grief so I moved out to the couch. Patrick followed me a short time later. I woke up at 8 am confused as to how we got there, because I clearly remembered falling asleep in our bed...

My best guess is that I was having another one of my "realistic" dreams--the kind where nothing really strange or unusual happens, but it feels like it's actually happening--so it takes me a while to figure out whether I'm actually awake or not. Today I woke up convinced that our church didn't start until 11 am, so I went back to sleep for a few more hours. Yeah, it starts at 9 am...has for a couple months now! At least we didn't miss everything. We still went to the last hour and enjoyed all the musical numbers people had prepared for the holiday.

We then spent the rest of the afternoon and evening visiting both of our families, watching kids go on Egg Hunts and just chatting. It was lovely. After a week that's been fairly stress-filled, I know it was a balm to my soul to take the time to reconnect with those I love and not worry about worldly stuff--even if it's just for one day.

Easter is supposed to herald a renewal of our hope and faith, and I really felt that this year. It came at the perfect time to remind me what's most important...and I'm grateful for it. So, I hope you all had a happy, peaceful Easter weekend, too!

An Original Song

This afternoon we got to spend some one-on-one time with my nieces, Meagan and Madilynn while their mom went to a movie. As we were driving to our house, Meagan was serenading us with a medley of Disney tunes until she stopped for a minute. I thought maybe she was getting drowsy, but then she burst out into song again--this time with an original composition:

"Oh, oh, oh! When I was a baby I came out of my mommy's tummy!
Oh, oh, oh! And then I said, 'Hello!'
She smiled at meeee....
And said I was so beautifulllll....
And we love each other very much!"
(Short Pause)
"The End!"

So cute...I got a little teary. I hope my little girl makes up sweet songs like that one day. :-)

Naughty People

1) Me--for not blogging two days in a row. I have no excuse other than fatigue--both mental and physical. Just so you know, we have been able to resolve the whole identity theft issue with the bank. Things are still going to be a little extra tight for us until next paycheck...But I'm trying to focus more on the unexpected blessing rather than the anxiety that this whole experience brought. (During the myriad phone calls, we discovered that we were able to consolidate our bank loans and lower our monthly expenses by $54. Not too shabby, says I! It'll be official when we go in to sign some papers tomorrow. Yay!)

Also, I've been busy sewing up bedding for little miss' room when she arrives. I finished her crib's dust ruffle, and am halfway done with her matching bumper pads...I still really want to make a light quilt or blanket for the spring/summer. I'm thinking of doing the "1600 Jelly Roll" quilt--but that would require a jelly roll--Hmm. Oh well, I'll put it on my "someday when we have a little extra money" list of projects. :-)

2) My Coworkers--today one of the receptionists (who is also pregnant) offered me a popsicle from her stash. Our air conditioning up in the front of the building hasn't been working properly for nearly a month. It seems to be stuck between 78-82 degrees Fahrenheit. All. The. Time. I have noticed that my temperature runs higher anyway when I'm pregnant, so I've been dying during my long shifts and can't wait to come home and take a cool shower...Anyway, I just want you to understand why the popsicle was such an awesome gesture on her part. And it wasn't just any popsicle. It was a Big Stick.

But it turns out you can't eat a Big Stick in a health care facility when you're seven months along without everyone making naughty comments...I almost had to lock myself in the bathroom because people kept making me laugh. My favorite was the nurse who starting quoting Patch Adams saying, "Let's go check out the maternity ward, because you know those girls put out!"

3) Patrick--the other day he started to attach the knobs to our kitchen drawers (after about a year of waiting for who knows what). I don't know about you, but if I knew I was going to drill a hole into a drawer filled with eating and cooking utensils, I would empty out the drawer first. Patrick is not like me in this respect.

He pushed stuff to the back of the drawer so he'd have more working room and kept on going. When I saw what he was doing I was both excited and anxious--I really want to have drawer pulls, but I had just spent a lot of time getting the upstairs deep cleaned and put together the day before--so I asked him to be sure to vacuum up the little sawdust piles he was leaving in the bottom of the drawers. (At this point I am going to assume that he was so in the zone that he wasn't thinking...because it's the only way I can stop myself from planning to cause him some kind of elaborate physical harm.) He just nodded and then blew on the pile of sawdust, scattering it all over the clean previously clean cutlery.

I believe my next words were, "Are you kidding me?! We eat with those!" He then made some unwise comment about how a little speck of wood wouldn't kill you if you ingested it, and I got riled up and started to accuse him of calling me a bad cook. (Apparently he thinks my meals are so tasteless, it wouldn't matter if sawdust was mixed in, because he wouldn't be able to tell the difference!) Needless to say, the rest of the interaction did not go well. I can't remember everything I said, but I'm sure it's not something to be proud of. Still, I dare anyone to tell me that I was unprovoked...

(Disclaimer: I love my husband very much and I think the world of him. But there are times when I don't understand him. And those are the times I try not to kill him...even when the urge to poison his food with sawdust is very strong...)

Somebody stop the ride! I wanna get off!

It’s been a crazy couple of days for us. Something of an emotional rollercoaster…so I apologize that I’ve been absent, but I didn’t really have it in me to blog.

Sunday was tough for me. I had to work a long shift when I really could have used the spiritual uplift from being with family and going to church. I feel like I’m coming more to terms with what kind of changes we’ll be making in the near future as we revamp our budget—mostly I’ll be sacrificing some more of my time and convenience—but I know it’ll be worth it. (Plus, it’s good practice for when the baby arrives and by all accounts I will no longer ever have time of my own again, right?)

I was doing my best not to be depressed or cranky, but my very last patient of the day kind of rubbed me the wrong way—and I think I pulled a muscle trying to get her into the proper position for her x-ray. (She seriously just laid there like a dead weight and waited for me to try and heft her around. I hate it when they do that; especially when I’ve got a more limited range of motion at the moment.) So I was not at my best when I finally got home and I opted to try and un-kink my back instead of blogging. It didn’t work. We ended up sleeping on the couch—me for the support and Patrick because he didn’t like being in the bed alone.  

Monday was mostly great. I felt like I was riding an emotional high as I used my day off to get a bunch of deep cleaning done. I totally de-cluttered the front room and kitchen. Plus I moved and vacuumed underneath all the furniture and wiped out all the kitchen cabinets, etc. I felt unstoppable. I even remembered to take out the meat to thaw in the morning for dinner that night. (Of course, I also remembered that I didn’t have one of the ingredients we needed. But no biggie! We had some spare change on hand in the form of a gift card from family, and I planned on having Patrick run me to the store when he got back so that we could eat before 9 or 10 pm for once.)

We were at said store, still feeling pretty happy with our day, and Patrick was looking at our bank account on his phone (trying to plan out bills for payday this week) when he asked me when/why I had purchased a gift card for $57. I asked him what he was smoking—we’re using couch change and gift cards to buy groceries, why on earth would I spend money we don’t have on a random gift card for someone else?

So we both stopped and started looking through the pending charges in our checking account. There were a lot of them. And none that we recognized…It finally dawned on us that we had been robbed. Somehow, someone hacked our card information and starting Sunday night, purchased about $800 worth of crap online (that turned into just over $1,000 with all the overdraft fees they incurred) under our name.

We rushed to the bank and got there just before closing, but even though the teller and manager were very helpful, there’s nothing we can do until the charges actually clear. We cancelled our cards, and once the pending charges clear, we’ll go in to sign forgery affidavits that will dispute the false charges and refund the overdraft fees. And we will definitely be getting new banking info… But the upshot is, we’re hosed. Some free-loading scumbag cheat just stole our entire paycheck and is holding it hostage. We aren’t going to get any of that money back for another 15-20 days while we wait for all the paperwork to be processed.

I kept it together as best as I could while we were in public, but I totally lost it when we got home. We were already late on bills and now we’re going to be even later…we’re trying to call and get extensions on our scheduled payments, etc. but I feel like our prospects are very bleak right now.

My stiff upper lip is trembling and I feel like I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop…because experience has taught me that all bad things come in threes. I just can’t take any more surprises right now. 

**UPDATE**

It is now midday on Tuesday, and I feel like I've been on the phone for forever. Because we were so proactive about talking to the people at the bank, they've already started to work on things from their end--namely cutting off access to our accounts. (FYI, did you know that if you are proactive about stopping your cards and putting a hold on your pin number, that you can no longer access your account information online or on the automated phone system to see if certain transactions have cleared? Because I didn't. Those poor people at the bank must think I'm neurotic with how often I've been checking in with them. I must have gotten under their skin because the last time I called, one of the managers gave me back limited access with my pin so that I can monitor my account on my own now.)

But now I feel like I'm in the Twilight Zone, because I just pulled up our account online to verify some stuff before I start calling our creditors,etc. and the transactions were gone. Poof. Disappeared. Like they never even happened...My brain was stuck thinking, "What the what??" Everyone at the bank assured me that they wouldn't be able to do anything until all the pending transactions cleared, and now the only things I see pending or cleared are stuff that I clearly know we're responsible for... I feel like I'm in one of those freaky science fiction shows. "I swear officer! I saw a little green man standing right there just a second ago!" I remember seeing at least six pending transactions from different websites when we looked last night. And now they are no where to be found. 

I don't know whether to be grateful or not yet. On one hand, I am terribly afraid that I am somehow misreading the information and just not seeing the obvious. On the other, I really, really, really want to believe that this was all some kind of epic clerical error that has already been resolved and not some kind of identity theft situation. Please, keep your fingers crossed and pray hard for us that it's the latter. In the meantime, I'm going to call the bank. Again.        

A Wonderful Surprise!

I apologize for my failure to blog last night. It was a long day at work and when I got home I totally forgot all about it because this was the sight that greeted my eyes as I opened the door:

(Okay well, maybe not the exact sight because it was surrounded by people and the couch and so on, but I was so excited and in-the-moment that I didn't think to take a picture. So I found one instead. )

Isn't it beautiful?! 

It's my birthday present from Scott and Ana--my dear, sweet brother and sister-in-law--and I was totally floored. I spent the better part of the next five minutes just standing and staring and repeating "Oh my gosh, you guys!" over and over like a broken record. Then I came to and started to mess around with all the buttons and levers, making sure I knew how to fold it up and hook things together...I was like a kid obsessed with a new toy on Christmas morning. 

They were able to stay and watch a movie with us, so we all just hung out for the rest of the evening. (I didn't really pay attention to the movie because I was too busy admiring my new stroller and wondering if it would be weird if I tried to use the cat as a practice dummy...probably...but I still haven't ruled it out as a possibility.)

I also forgot to blog because I was so busy receiving an inundation of phone calls and text messages from all you wonderful people that I'm lucky enough to call my friends and family. I felt bad that my last post sounded so dire/cryptic and worried you all. I tried to be as down to earth and practical as I could without causing you any alarm--we aren't going bankrupt or anything, just trying our best to readjust to new circumstances--but I felt so blessed to be the recipient of so much love and concern. I can't thank you all enough...It's amazing how a few kind words and thoughtful gestures from others have the power to boost your self-worth and confidence. Thanks. 

In other news, today Patrick rewired our cable so that we actually have basic TV now. He did a beautiful job both in hooking things up and cleaning up after himself. I don't know which one I'm more thrilled about! (In my head, I kept picturing him as if he were in one of his video games...like, if every home improvement project he completed were "experience points" and he'd get bonuses or 1-Ups for completely them in a timely manner...Hmm. I think I may have stumbled onto an interesting motivational tool...I'll have to think on how to implement it some more.) 

I slept in until about 11 am--which is kind of a miracle at this point! I cannot seem to find a sleeping position that stays comfortable for more than a half hour at a time...I must have worn myself out from all my tossing and turning earlier in the week. I also tried to get myself back into my Meal Planning groove (we'll see how that goes for me this week), cleaned the bathroom, and folded a batch of laundry. That's as close to "on fire" as I've been for a while now. The house is still pretty cluttered. But it's clean clutter that's just waiting for a new home as we work on the nursery.

We also got to hang out with Scott, Ana, and Trevor (a long-time friend of both Patch's and Scott's) tonight. They were kind enough to bring over ingredients for a meal and I helped Ana learn how to make it. I'm very flattered that she thinks I'm a good cook and asks me to show her different recipes. I really enjoy it--not just because it swells my ego--but because I really enjoy having someone in the kitchen with me. I like sharing the tasks like chopping vegetables as we chat or something; which is one thing that Patrick adamantly does not like to do. Pretty much anything that keeps him in the kitchen longer than it takes to raid the fridge or dish up seems to be filed under "drudgery" in his mental index. Oh well, I've got eternity to change his mind, right?

Thank you all again, for your kind thoughts and wishes. Please know that you're in ours as well! Until tomorrow--good night!

Who says you can't learn from TV?

This afternoon I got a rather distressing text message from my husband regarding our finances. I'm not going to go into detail because I feel it's a personal matter that shouldn't be aired in a public forum. Nonetheless, it did happen and is part of my life and will affect how I'll survive this day and many days to come, so I do feel that I need to share certain aspects of this "chapter" in our story. It helps me cope and process things to write them down. 

 My first instinct was to break down and cry and wail about how unkind fate/the world/etc. is. However, I was at work and couldn't throw the tantrum I wanted without scaring a lot of people and then having to explain why I was upset. Neither of those outcomes was appealing--so I stepped into the exam room and swore non-stop under my breath for about thirty seconds to relieve my feelings--and as I stepped out I had a memory of a scene from a TV show pop into my mind.

I have recently been watching "Call the Midwife," a new PBS series that's kind of in the same vein as "Downton Abbey" but not...if that makes any sense. It follows the real life story of a young nurse/midwife as she starts practicing in the East End of London in the 1950s. It does a fantastic job of portraying the poverty and squalor people were trying to get out from under after WWII--but more inspiring than that--it depicts the "make it work" attitude of the people who lived there. People who were full of hope, love, and a practical sort of optimism--the kind that focuses on finding the good in a situation rather than escaping into dreams or fantasies of "one day."

One of the episodes tells the story of a young mother who gave birth to preterm triplets in the middle of the night. She was alone--her boyfriend was a sailor and was out at sea--she lived in a tiny, dank apartment without water, heat, clean linen, or electricity. And she had no idea she was carrying triplets. As I watched these two women, the midwife and the mother, try to cope with the challenging circumstances and find the best solutions they could, I was completely awed. I can't say how I would cope under the same circumstances, but I highly doubt it would be with such aplomb or grace.

This was the scene that came to mind as I began to feel overwhelmed by trying to face the new reality our financial situation. Here we are, in a predicament that I, for one, do not feel prepared for. In many ways I feel alone. We make too much to qualify for assistance, and too little to meet all of our obligations. We also know we are not the only ones struggling economically and don't feel it's right to beg/borrow from our friends or family. We're between the proverbial rock and hard place; and it's time to make a big choice about which thing is gonna give...I feel out of my depth. I don't know where to begin, or what questions to ask, and I'm afraid of making a mistake that could just make everything worse...but it's a risk I'm going to have to take.

I want to find my "Inner Brit" with the stiff upper lip and unflappable composure. I am going to do the best I can with the resources I do have. I will not let my fear of the unknown future paralyze me into inaction. I will remember Churchill's words "If you meet it promptly and without flinching, you will reduce the danger by half," when I am tempted to bury my head in the sand and wish our problems away. Somehow, we'll make it through this. And once we're on the other side, I'm pretty sure we'll be amazed by how capable we really are; and we'll use the experience to teach our children.

Now, all we have to do is make it to that other side...

It's a good thing my head is attached...

Today was super slow for me. I think I did maybe three exams all day long. And--apparently--I had very bad case of "pregnancy brain" this morning, because I forgot some very important parts of my "work survival pack" that usually gets me through days like this one.

For example, I packed my kindle--but left my headphones so I couldn't listen to music or watch a show--I tried reading a book but kept falling asleep at my desk; I took my knitting bag that was packed with yarn--but left my needles at home on my nightstand; I packed some snacks and a water bottle--that I left on the kitchen counter. All in all, without my usual distractions, it was a freakishly long day.

At one point I couldn't fight to keep my eyes open anymore so I went and laid down on the exam table in the x-ray room and took a fifteen minute nap. I set a timer on my phone--just to be on the safe side--but I didn't really need it because I couldn't have lain on that table any longer. I'm having a hard time sleeping on my own nice bed with lots of pillows and blankets; there's no way my lower back would have survived on that cold, hard board.

In the end I just tried to keep myself entertained by surfing the web--which is harder than it sounds when half the sites you'd like to go to are blocked by your office's security system. It's designed to keep you off social media so you can focus on work; which is a great thing--when you actually have work to do--otherwise it's a nightmare.

I finally decided to try to start assembling our baby registry list, but I quickly became overwhelmed by the thought of all the stuff that caring for a newborn entails...I think I need another parent to look over what I have listed so far and help me figure out which parts are actually "essential." In the end I gave up after about a half hour before I sent myself into hysterics with worry.

I think what I'll take away from this experience is the necessity of packing for work the night before I go. Maybe that will prevent me from leaving crucial objects behind....Maybe.

Adventures in Sewing

We had a bit of a sleepy start today so we haven't gotten anymore painting done in the nursery yet. It'll probably have to wait until the weekend. However, I still feel like I need to be making forward progress with the whole thing, so I've started a couple of sewing projects.

Last night while the boys were watching Battlestar, I went down and raided my little fabric stash to see what I had on hand that would work for the baby's room. (Nothing against Battlestar, but I find I really have to be in the mood to watch it. And after watching it once with Patrick, and then listening to him re-watch it again before starting it over with Trevor--I don't think I'll be in the mood to watch it for myself for several years.)

I found about 5 yards of white eyelet that I decided to make into a dust ruffle for the crib. So I measured and cut out the pieces and finished doing rolled hems along the sides last night before I went to bed. I decided as I was going along that I wanted to serge the eyelet to the muslin piece that will lie under the mattress--so that will also have to wait for the weekend when I can go to Chrissy's and borrow the use of her serger. But I still had a fire lit under me when I woke up this morning and wanted to keep going...

So I began the epic undertaking (to me, at least) of slip covering The Awful Chair.

I am doing my best to take pictures of the process as I go along, but--once again--I am unable to post them yet for technical reasons. (I need to just find out which stupid cord I need to hook my camera to the computer so I can post the dang pictures...Remind me to look into that when we get our next paycheck...After all, I know I'm going to be posting pictures more regularly once the baby arrives, so I may as well sort it out now, right?) Anyway--

I watched a bunch of different slipcover tutorials this afternoon and then I decided to just jump in with both feet and cut out the fabric. Most of the tutorials say you should make a pattern template out of muslin, bed sheets or butcher paper, but I don't have extras of those things lying around. And, quite frankly, it sounds like an absolute drag to complete a "practice" slipcover when you could just make the actual slipcover and enjoy your achievement that much sooner.

I had a bit of a panic attack before cutting into my fabric and had to call my sister--whom I consider to be an  expert in all things sewing, despite the fact that she's never made a slipcover either--in order to calm my nerves. That being said, I think I made a pretty good job of cutting everything out and making sure the fabric would line up correctly and still have adequate seam allowance. Now I am very patiently and cautiously pin-fitting the pieces together wrong side out--just like the tutorials say. I don't know how long this particular part of the process will take, but I am doing my best to stay calm and not allow myself to get overly frustrated and start cursing. Maybe I'll have something to show you all when the weekend rolls around!

In the meantime, I'm going to get the most work I can done today, since I'll be working three long shifts in a row again. Wish me luck!

"Barbs. Babies. Battlestar Galactica..."

So sorry for the "radio silence" these past few days, but I lack the technology to blog from anything but a PC at the moment. You can see what I was up to here on Chrissy's blog.

Today has been an interesting combination of mellow and productive...Patrick took me in for my three hour glucose testing early this morning. (I am sooo grateful he had the day off and could go with me. For whatever reason, this particular test has had me pretty stressed out and I'm glad I had his support to get through it.) One of the perks in working where I do, is that I know which lab techs are really good at drawing blood--not just getting the vein, but also making it as comfortable for the patient--so I made certain that one of "pros" was there to do mine. Everything went pretty smoothly until it was time to wait for my second hour draw, then I started to get pretty nauseated, so they had me lie down in one of the rooms for the rest of the test. We watched the BBC show Sherlock in between pokings and I was glad when it was over and we could finally go eat.

I told Patrick that I felt like I deserved a reward after surviving my test with my dignity intact (aka: not letting my coworkers see me shed a few tears and moan while holding back the urge to vomit up the nasty sugar water they gave me), so we had a late breakfast at IHOP. It was one of the tastiest meals I've ever eaten. It's amazing how hunger improves the quality of food.

After eating, we both got a jolt of energy and went to run a few errands. On a whim, we stopped by Home Depot to price out some chair rail molding that we'd like to put up in the nursery--and since we found it was discounted, we got it! Patrick had surprised me by picking up the paint for the baby's room while I was gone, so it feels like we're finally making progress in that area of the house.

We got back and Patrick helped me out by doing all the icky, smelly jobs like scraping off cookware and emptying the fridge of expired stuff and taking out the trash. Then I put in a good hour of housework while he put the crib together and started prepping the walls for paint. We installed the molding, and he was able to get most of the top half of the walls painted before his friend Trevor came over for dinner and a Battlestar Galactica marathon.

Since neither of us work until late tomorrow, I'm excited to see what kind of progress we'll make in the morning! (By the way, I'm doing my best to document the nursery's progress as requested, but I still think I'll hang on to the pics until we're ready for the big reveal.)

Something had to be done...

Today I had a day off. I slept in. I watched PBS shows and knitted. It was great. Until about noon when I walked into the bathroom and took a good look at myself in the mirror.

About six months ago I decided to cut my hair short. It was great. I loved it! It was super easy to do in the mornings and I was amazed at my shampoo savings. However, I didn't bargain on how much upkeep it would be in terms of getting it trimmed frequently. I don't remember things like that very well anyway, plus it often feels like I'm being extravagant when I go to a salon to get my hair done. So, since we've been budgeting more carefully, I've usually just had Patrick clean up the back and sides when it starts to get unruly.

And then I got pregnant. And my hair starting to grow much faster. Not even my sweet husband could do much...beyond make me look like some kind of die-hard Beatles fan...So this afternoon as I stood and stared at my pseudo-bowl cut/ imminent mullet I decided that something had to be done. I just couldn't take the shagginess anymore!

Accordingly, I got dressed and took myself down to the salon in the mall hoping to find the woman who originally gave me the pixie cut. No such luck, but an equally talented co-worker of hers took me in hand and I'm very happy with the results. (I also felt so grown up as I explained what I wanted to the stylist. Usually I just give them a general idea on length and let them have at it; but I decided to put on my big-girl panties this time and get really specific on what I did and didn't like about the cut as it was. I can't believe it took me so long--I like the new, more assertive me--plus I definitely got what I asked for.)

So....what do you think? (I was unable to convince Patrick that taking pictures of my hair was more meritorious than relaxing on the couch. Please pardon my somewhat vacant expressions--I was concentrating really hard on not covering my face with the phone--without actually looking at said phone. It's harder than it seems.)

Hopefully, the shaping she did will allow my hair to grow more gracefully into a bob-style cut. Both my pocketbook and hormones demanded something that requires slightly fewer haircuts and I think this will do the trick...

(P.S. I have a random question: Does it look like my hair has been dyed? I've had several people at work ask me if I've colored my hair in the last few days, and even Patrick recently mentioned that it seemed darker...Now, I know I haven't dyed my hair--because every time I think about it I remember that "root touch up" scene from Baby Mama--but is it normal for your hair color to change during pregnancy??) 

The Best and Worst of Days

Today was the best because:

1)      We had visits from three separate drug representatives today. We got sweet rolls and breakfast pastries from Sills Café, followed by comfort food from Maddox for lunch (even better because I didn’t get traumatized driving to go get it), and assorted fruits and dips for a late afternoon snack.

2)      We have a wonderful provider at this clinic who believes in employee morale; so he has arranged for free 15 minute massages from professionals every Wednesday for the next several months. How awesome is that?!I melted into a (not so) little puddle of happiness after my turn. This is the best my back has felt in weeks! (Particularly after I took a tumble trying to get out of my car and up my porch steps the other night…no serious injury to anything but my pride, but I’ve been extra stiff/sore for a few nights now.)

3)      Three separate people here have birthdays this week, so we were also surprised with free chocolate cake and ice cream.

4)      I had a very mellow workday with my exams evenly spaced out so that I had time to digest all these awesome foodstuffs people kept bringing without feeling like I was going to burst; Yet not so slow that I was afraid of falling into a food-induced coma (aka: the afternoon nap).

Today was the worst because:

1)      I got a phone call from my OB’s office to confirm my lab test results from my visit on Monday—I’m slightly anemic and have to start taking iron supplements with my other vitamins. (Okay fine. Yet another pill to remember, but no big deal, right?) And…

2)      I failed my glucose tolerance test by one point. Normal is considered to be anything in the range below 135. Mine was 136.

3)      Now I’m scheduled to have the three hour tolerance test on Monday the 18^th. Whoopee. Just what I wanted—to get stuck repeatedly in the arm while not being allowed to eat, and having to drink more of that nasty sugar water—I’d rather chug a couple bottles of barium.

4)  Our Thermostat up in the lobby was broken so I was sitting and sweltering in 80 degree heat trying to fan myself with interoffice memos.  

I guess I’m just going to have to treat myself while I can this coming weekend. I’m terrified of the thought of gestational diabetes…no sweets, daily finger sticks, and typically bigger babies to push out…I really hope I pass this next test. Oreos have been one of my biggest cravings—please don’t take them away!

Knitting in Public

Tonight after work I walked next door to a local grocery store to wait for Patrick to come get me. (We are only able to use one car at the moment and it has caused us to get creative in managing our work schedules.)

I was off at 8 pm and Patrick wouldn't be there until about 9:30 pm. So I found an unoccupied bench near the pharmacy window and pulled out my knitting to while away the time. I was back to working on my fluff puffs today, so I was able to make about three of them while I was waiting. Several small kids walking by with their parents would marvel at my little collection of knitted puffs and ask me what they were for. 

One particularly adorable little girl who was toting around a Barbie doll fell in love with a puff made of soft, speckled purple yarn. She must have been around three or four and she reminded me so much of my own nieces as she exclaimed over "my cute little dolly pillows" and asked if she could touch it. Her mom just smiled at our little interaction up until her daughter asked me if she could keep it--then she got this strained sort of look on her face and began to explain how that wasn't a polite request to make of a stranger. 

I felt for this woman, but something in me melted as I watched this little girl rub the puff along her own cheek and then her doll's, and I told her she could have it--as long as it was okay with her mommy. Her mom looked at me with surprise and I just said, "It feels nice when people appreciate the things I make. And I think it would make an excellent doll pillow."

They both thanked me and continued on with their shopping trip and I went back to my puffs. 

And maybe it sounds odd, but I feel good about myself knowing that a much loved doll will sleep on a handmade pillow tonight because of me.  

Re-evaluating Life at Home

As the title of this post implies, I have been doing some thinking about some of the stress-inducing things in my life. I learned in a high school health class once that there are two kinds of stress: good stress that motivates us to achieve our goals, and bad stress that distracts us from our goals. I think I have experienced a healthy amount of both this weekend.

Good Stress Example: I love my family and friends and wanted to show them that love by taking the time and effort to create personal, handmade items for them.

Result: I was able to knit a cabled pair of men's dress socks and a beard-beanie in three days (that's over 100,000 individual stitches y'all)--and this was after I had completed assembling a recipe collection and custom designed recipe box for my friend's wedding. Boo. Ya.  However, this also meant that I ended up knitting  in every spare moment I could find on her wedding day; and crashing on the couch for almost two hours while everyone was gathered for the combined birthday celebration on Sunday because I had replaced some of my sleeping time with knitting time--and I therefore missed out on some of the funnest moments of the party. (Or so Patrick told me when I woke up. Oops.)

Bad Stress Example: I struggle with time management when I'm home alone. (Or, more accurately, I struggle with budgeting my energy across a spectrum of necessary tasks/projects. I tend to exhaust myself doing one thing from start-to-finish rather than allowing myself to take the time to make gradual--and more effectual--headway with all my projects.)

Result: I didn't do anything in my house (except make more messes) after my sister came to help me move stuff around for my craft room because I was feeling the time crunch of poor planning on the whole presents front... So today when Patrick and I got home, I had a hard time not having a bit of meltdown as I looked around. I felt overwhelmed by the prospect of cleaning it all up and berated myself for being surprised at how messy it got in a week...I was on the verge of frustrated tears when I took a step back and decided to think about why I was actually upset in that moment:

Re-evaluation Conclusion: In order to me to feel happy and peaceful in my home, I need to find a more concrete maintenance routine. (I.E. Certain tasks must be done daily at certain times in order for me to feel like I have accomplished something meaningful.) The challenge I face here is our unpredictable work schedules. I am working with my boss to create a set schedule for myself, but Patrick's is still very up-in-the-air at times... Bottom line, I get nervous about how we'll be able to handle adding childcare into that mix and my anxiety manifests itself in my ability to exert control over my environment. When I'm stressed, I can't seem to focus on my normal tasks and my house starts to reflect my chaotic state of mind.

I don't like being unhappy or dissatisfied when I come home. The way I see it, there are already so many other things outside my home that put stress on me or Patrick; I just want to feel like my home really is a place of rest apart from the world. And I wish I had the answer to my conundrum right this moment, but I don't. However, I do think I'll be able to find it after I'm able to talk it over with Patch. After all, it's really our home, not just mine or his...I think if we work it out together, we'll be able to find what works for us as a family. I think maybe where I've stumbled in the past is trying to take it all on by myself without really consulting Patrick. And I'm rapidly learning, I can't do it all by myself. Not anymore. And at first I found that kind of scary...but now...I think it'll actually be enriching for me to be more reliant on my husband in this aspect. (I just hope he finds it enriching, too!)

In the meantime, I elected to do three tasks tonight, and let the rest wait until morning. I loaded the dishwasher, switched over some laundry, and Patrick took out the trash. The house isn't where I'd like it to be, but it's closer than it was...so I think I'll take that and run with it. :-)


  

Survivor

I have made it through my last straight 12 hour shift. I have finished another birthday gift. And I am tired to the bone. Sweet dreams, everyone, because I don't plan on waking up for a while...

A Quarter Century

That is how old I turned today...it feels a little odd...and slightly empowering, in the sense that I can now legally rent a vehicle were I to become stranded in a foreign place. And my insurance rates should go down a bit. Score!

I want to say thanks to all the fabulous folks who sent me sweet/happy/funny birthday messages on Facebook, in text messages, and phone calls. Y'all made my day! (By the way I did get my wish from last night: today's workload was way less strenuous. Two patients in a 12 hour day. That's about 20 minutes of actual work, and 11 hours and 40 minutes of paid knitting time. Sweet.)

I wish I had something more profound or humorous to say in this moment--I feel that 25 years merits some kind of showing of how much wisdom I've been able to garner through life's experiences thus far--but the truth is: It's late and I've got nothing.......wait.......Nope. Nothing... Maybe inspiration will strike in the morning when my mental acuity is functioning on a higher level. (We can but hope.)

In the meantime, I'd like to say thanks once more. Life wouldn't be as much fun without all of you. Thanks for the memories.

(P.S. I did just think of one random funny thing I heard today that I thought I should share with you. 

I was listening to the lab tech preparing to take a blood sample from a kid who was about six or seven. She was in the zone and kind of went on autopilot when she said to this little kid, "Are you right or left handed?" He just looked at her like she was stupid and held up his hands to prove his point as he said, "Uh, both." 

Me and his mom snorted and had ourselves a good laugh while the tech just shrugged and carried on. It must be boring to live in such a humorless state of mind...)

I'm sensing a pattern...

Today was a long...odd...workday. It's a little known fact that many x-ray techs have "themed" days--days when you see a lot of the same kind of injury or body part--it's strange, but true. I have had days where I've done nothing but knees all day, or chests, or broken toes...but today's theme seemed to be unusually proportioned patients in groups...

I saw three guys in a row who were all over 6' 5". Three. In. A. Row. After the third I poked my head out of the room to see if I was being Punk'd or something, but no hidden camera crew leaped out at me. These gents were followed by three broken clavicles...who were followed by three very large ladies...who were followed by three geriatric patients with acute hearing problems...who were followed by three boys with various snowboarding injuries...and so on.

It was the weirdest thing ever...

The pattern of threes stopped at about 4:30, but the patients kept on coming. My average twelve hour day usually has me doing 10-18 exams spaced randomly throughout the day. Today, I did 32. It was non-stop craziness. At one point I started to (half) joke with the next door lab tech that I might be calling out for help as I went into labor from all the bending and lifting... Luckily everything but my muscles seems okay.

I really hope my shift tomorrow is mellow. It would be nice to relax a little on my birthday. Plus, I need to finish those other presents. Plus, I have the feeling that I'm going to be very sore in the morning. Hmm. Wish me luck!

Cutting Myself Some Slack

Today I did a lot of things...but you wouldn't know it to look at me or my surroundings.

We've got a big celebration weekend coming up with two birthdays and a wedding. So I worked on making gifts today. I finished one and the other two are in progress. (I also got a surprise visit from my Dad and we went on an unexpected grocery run. Thank you again, Dad! The groceries are a blessing and getting to spend time with you and chat was fun.)

I made excellent use of my new crafting space, and even cleaned everything thing up despite feeling sapped by my spurt of creativity...so now it looks like I haven't done anything with my day at all...

I almost feel like I should have left a little mess behind me, just to prove I was there. It's a weird feeling. But it's probably just because I'm feeling a little deflated looking at all the things I didn't do today that I can still see--like my untidy front room, the sink full of dishes, the unmade bed, and the hamper of dirty laundry. However, I am choosing to cut myself a little slack today.

I did a lot of manual labor yesterday, and (all evidence to the contrary) I spent a huge chunk of time today focusing on ways to make my friends and family happy; so instead of feeling guilty for not having a "magazine clean" space when I go upstairs, I'm going to call in some "me time" tonight and just let the stress of it go. They are not insurmountable tasks. I can tackle them tomorrow. And I know I have a partner I can rely on to help me manage both the house and my stress levels.

Life is good.

Rearranging Our Life: Part 1

Today's shout-out goes to my sister Chrissy: for being awesome and helping me move furniture up and down stairs despite being sore from moving all her own stuff around the day before. And also for doing my dishes. Thank you! :)

With her help I was able to completely finish organizing the downstairs office/craft room today. We also made quite a bit of progress on the future nursery--but it's not quite ready to be revealed yet. (In fact, I'm thinking of saving those pictures for when it's all the way done--meaning painted, decorated, etc., and not just de-junked--I think it will be a more dramatic reveal.)

But here, without further ado for your viewing pleasure, are the before and after pictures of the downstairs. I stole Patrick's phone to take them, since it's the only thing that allows me to actually upload the photos to the computer; hence, the scope of the photo shoot is somewhat limited. (Also, please don't judge my clutter too harshly--it kind of accumulates when you never have reason to use the room other than to put stuff in it.)

Top of the landing on the stairs. There are no after shots because it got too dark for the cell phone to compensate. But imagine nothing but pristine, flower scented carpet and you've got the general idea. :)

Bottom of downstairs. It is now also pristine. (P.S. Can you make out the improvised "cat flap" that Patrick cut into the basement door? One day I will have a real cat flap there. Until then, this little portal serves quite nicely.) 

Craft Room Before
(I would stand here in the doorway and think, "There's just no way I can tackle this right now." And then I would shut the door and repress the memory.)

Craft Room Before
(Once upon I time my sewing area was in the process of being organized...and then somehow everything sputtered to a halt and never picked up momentum again until today.)

Craft Room/Office After
Patrick has been so excited to use this space. I'm kind of excited at the thought of having some "parallel play" company. When I want to work on a project, he can come down, pop in his headphones and play a game, or watch a show with me.   (P.S. Do you see the bookshelf? I cut my collection back to just two shelves and was able to use the rest for crafting storage. I look at my one little shelf of fabric and think of my sister's twenty-something totes and shake my head and laugh. I'll probably get there one day. Maybe. I'm not as prolific a seamstress as she...)

Craft Room/Office After
This is as much of the sewing area as you're gonna see because Patrick was in charge of taking the after shots while I got dinner ready...I think we can safely assume he's more excited about the computer stuff. :) So, you'll just have to take my word for it when I tell you that the sewing/knitting area is now immaculate.  By the by, this shot also features the horribly ugly, yet inexplicably comfy chair that will move into the nursery once I slipcover it. (P.S. Can you find the new wall decoration that Patrick picked out while I was getting some organizational drawers? Ten points if you can name the character.) 

Before I close this post, I would appreciate it if you would all join me in a moment of silence for the tragic passing of a project.

As I was going through all my yarn I found two sweaters I had knit that were nearly finished. One required some ribbing around the neck, and the other had one sleeve waiting to be cast off. They were 98% done and represented a significant portion of my time as well as a sentimental attachment (one was the first thing I ever made for myself, and the other was the first sweater I had made for Patrick)--and they had been eaten by moths. I sat stunned for a moment when I found them, and then wept bitter, silent tears as I placed them in the trash bag. They would have been beautiful sweaters--one had a very intricate cable pattern and the other some fun colorwork motifs--lovely, soft, and warm...and now they are gone too soon from my life. It was a harsh lesson to learn, but I have taken steps to protect my budding stash and current knit projects from the same dismal fate. I would like to urge any fellow knitters out there to learn from my mistake and protect themselves before having to toss away nearly $80 worth of wool and a whole lot more in love, sweat, and tears.

Thank you.

Oh, oh, oh! I almost forgot that I could end on a happy note! I would also like to say a big thank you to my Mother-In-Law, who surprised us by buying the baby's crib for us as my birthday present! Thank you, Lisa! It's such a relief to be one step closer to bringing our daughter home without having to worry about the added financial burden. Thanks a million!

I Just Needed a Little Push

Today I would like to send a thank you out to my sister-in-law, Laura for giving me the push I needed to get started on the nursery.

I know I said something about trying to get all my de-cluttering done during the month of February...but that obviously didn't happen. You see, it's very hard for me to get motivated about large projects like that unless I can visualize the end result. And, try as I might, I just couldn't see the nursery coming together. Until yesterday.

I got a message from Laura, asking if we had found a crib yet. We hadn't. We had done some browsing online and in a few stores, but we could never seem to get our financial stars aligned. We either had the time to go get the crib, or we had the money...but never both together. Story of my life. (I'm sure you can all relate.)

Anyway, Laura was kind enough to do some digging on this perpetual Facebook yard sale and found gently used crib with mattress for $50. I was at work, and love Patrick though I do, this is just not his kind of thing...She went the extra mile and contacted the seller and organized everything for us so that we could just go pick it up later that evening. Talk about angels on earth--I'm so grateful to have such sweet family members.

When we got to the seller's apartment, they were very nice and helped us load everything into the back of the car. And as we drove home I realized the time had come. This whole pregnancy thing just got real...I mean, sure I've got all these physical reminders of what's going on; but somehow, knowing that we had a crib to put together made it feel like I was running out of time and that I better get ready to have this kid now.

So today, after church, we unloaded the crib from the car and started to crack down on all the projects we needed to do before we can focus on the nursery.

Patrick rewired our cable so that we could move the computer desk downstairs. I started de-cluttering and deep cleaning the carpets downstairs. (FYI, it's the first time I went down since the flooding incident. I know it's irrational, but I was so scared about finding major water damage when I opened the craft room door, that I convinced myself it was better to just avoid the room all together and hope for the best. Stupid, but true. And, thankfully no--there was no damage of any kind. Whew!) And while he was hauling furniture up and down stairs and  re-setting all the electronic equipment, I also started to clear out the upstairs room to make a place for all the baby's stuff to live until we get the nursery floor plan settled. It doesn't really look like anything has changed at the moment, but believe me, it has! I keep having the lyrics of a Disney song run through my head, and it's turning into my mantra for tackling this project:

Watch the baby tortoise inching up the hill,

It may seem to you he's merely standing still,

Though the steps he takes are infinitely small,

They're a step in the right direction after all!

I did take before pictures, but I refuse to post them until I have the afters as well...I don't want you to see the shameful amount of clutter and random crap strewn all over my house until I have proof that it's all been taken care of. I will do my best to make sure I can post them tomorrow though... Chrissy is coming up to help me haul some stuff around so that Patrick can move the last of the furniture when he gets home from work. It sounds eminently do-able in this moment--fingers crossed that tomorrow's events prove my theory true!

On the upside, I didn't die...

Remember how last night I mentioned that I was afraid I wouldn't blog if I had to wait until I got home? Well, turns out that premise was totally true, just not for the reasons I thought. As it happens, I actually had a very eventful (read: stressful) evening last night--and it all started almost the second after I had finished posting. So, settle in with a blanket and bowl of popcorn because this story might take a while...(Disclaimer: this post will contain some curse words. I thought about editing them out after I read through this, but the effort seemed like too much after all the writing I had just done. If you're offended, I'm sorry. Maybe you can replace them with more innocuous phrases when you read this to yourself...like "stars and garters" or "darn-tootin.")

Let us set the stage, shall we?

It seemed to be a typical after hours shift at the clinic. People were arriving in en masse to been seen for a variety of cold and flu symptoms from the lingering winter weather; with a smattering of teenage boys and grown men being seen for sports or manual labor related injuries. We were unlucky in the fact that there had been no lunch earlier that day, and as the time worn on to the middle of the shift our collective stomachs began to rumble--sending us to forage through the candy jars and our co-workers "secret" stashes of snacks. But all was not as bleak as it seemed...We were fortunate enough to be working with one of the more thoughtful and generous providers; and he very kindly offered to buy us all dinner. However, there was just one catch: he could order and pay for the meal, but someone else would need to go pick it up.

Well, I thought, I could do it. After all, he can't go because he needs to be here for the patients, and same goes for the nurse and MA. The lab has been slammed running all those throat cultures, and we only have the one receptionist...and I haven't had a patient for about an hour since that kid who slipped at recess... "I can go," I said. Little realizing that those three small words effectively strapped me onto a roller coaster of hair-raising stupidity that would last for two hours. Everyone thanked me, and he was handing me his card and the written order when I realized I had no idea where the heck he had even ordered from.

"Um, where am I going?" I said as he turned to walk away. "Oh, Maddox," he said. "It's out in Perry right before you get to Brigham City." He then proceeded to describe the area as I nodded and tried to look like I actually understood his directions. (I totally didn't understand his directions.) I waited for him to walk away and then quickly swiveled around to my computer to get directions from Google Maps. I should have just printed the damn thing off then, but I was overly confident in my navigational abilities...after all, it looked like a straight line from my office to the restaurant.

Yeah, well, turns out that a straight line doesn't feel so straight when you are on an unlit back road trying to squint as you pass street signs making sure that you're still headed in the right direction. Everyone had described it as about a 10-15 minute drive but it felt like I had been going for much longer than that. I don't know for sure, because I didn't think to check the clock and time myself as I pulled out of the parking lot. But I started to lose my confidence...I thought about the time I had tried to drive to Logan by myself for the first time and only realized something wasn't right when I started to see signs saying Pocatello in 30 miles...Or the time I almost turned onto the off-ramp of the freeway because I was at an unfamiliar intersection in the dark...you get the picture.

Well, I was so focused on trying to drown out the voice in my head saying, You can't do this! You got lost in Bountiful, moron! That's your own hometown...how the hell are you going to find your way to Perry--a town you never even heard of-- in the dark without a sense of direction or GPS? that I almost died.

I was just cresting over a slight rise on the road when not ten feet in front of me I saw three deer strung out across the road. (Just so you know the speed limit here was 55 and I may have been doing something more like 65 as I tend to get "lead foot" when I'm stress driving.) Well I let loose a scream and a stream of very un-lady-like language while one hand flew down to cover my belly as I clenched my entire body. (Not like my hand would have helped the situation much, but I can safely say that I was not thinking rationally at that moment.) I thank heaven above for granting me a moment of ninja-like reflexes as I swerved between the two does that were farthest apart...narrowly missing them by about 3 inches on either side of my vehicle...I never hit my brakes, I just took my foot off the gas until I coasted to a stop on the side of the road, and slowly unclenched my muscles and discovered I was crying. I also discovered that my bladder had started to react to the sudden appearance of the deer before I did, because as I tried to relax I realized I had involuntarily peed somewhere in my brush with death. Not a whole super lot--but enough to leave a damp spot between my thighs. Now I was crying out of frustration.

It was at this point in the drive that I said "screw it" and called the receptionist so she could give me directions to the freeway. At least that road would be lit and deer-free. Somehow my voice stayed steady through the entire conversation, so I was spared having to explain my tears, although I did apologize profusely for getting lost. (I found out later that if I had kept going straight for about five more minutes, I would have been there. I hate nighttime driving. And deer. I now feel that Chrissy may have had a point all these years...)

While I was calming down from the whole deer incident and had managed to find the freeway, I was still flustered enough that I didn't realize I was in the wrong lane to get on the Northbound I-15...

Yeah, I got on the Southbound instead and wasn't able to get off until I was almost back where I had started. Now I was pissed...literally and metaphorically. I turned around and got back on the Northbound and called my husband. He answered with a friendly "Hey, sweetheart" and it was all I could do to try and speak around my hysterics and tears. I demanded that he get to a place where he could look up where I was and give me turn by turn directions on how to get to the restaurant before my night descended any further into the seventh circle of Hell...he did. And he also did his best to calm me down, which admittedly wasn't much, but I do appreciate the effort. Now. I'm not sure, but I think I may have called him some names at the time...I love you, sweets, so you know I didn't mean it.

With his help I was finally able to find the stupid place. However, there had been a fender bender type accident at the intersection where I needed to turn so I sat staring malevolently through the traffic for another 15 minutes until it was my turn to go through. Seriously?!, I thought, There is no way this night could get any worse. Oh, but it could.

Turns out that Maddox isn't just a one building restaurant. No, it's a sprawling complex of three different buildings. And, wouldn't you know it? I picked the wrong one.

I got confused trying to figure out which entrance I was supposed to go to, and I finally got fed up. So, I parked in a handicapped spot--which was pretty much the only open spot in the entire lot-- and started to march up to the front doors looking splotchy from crying and--I suddenly realized--probably still smelling slightly of urine. Great. Now, in a rush of embarrassment I was trying to take small, mincing steps to hide any possible pee stains that I hadn't had time to check for yet, and I was drawing funny looks from the sizeable crowd of people waiting to be seated. It wasn't until I got to the front desk that I realized all these people were in Sunday clothes...I had picked the "fine dining" portion to walk into and pick up my order while wearing pee-scrubs. Even more awesome.

When I finally reached the line of people waiting to talk to the lady behind the desk, I looked up and saw a wall clock that said it was ten to eight. My clinic closes at eight. I called our receptionist again, told her a bit of what happened to make me so late, and asked her to check if I should even bother picking the food up at this point. Surprisingly she said yes; apparently we'd had a spurt of last minute check-ins and would be staying a little late anyway. Well, at least this trip wouldn't have been for nothing. I also felt very lucky that the woman at the desk was so nice and professional; despite my mistake of coming to the wrong door, she let me pay for everything there and called the kitchen to tell them to bring the order up to me.

I was standing around in the fancy people's lobby, trying to be inconspicuous, when I suddenly heard someone calling my name. I turned around, thinking it might be the food already, but no--it was a group of ultrasound techs from my department. They had just been about to leave when one of them recognized me and they all came to say hi and pat my belly. Normally I wouldn't have minded, and would have loved to chat with them for a bit, but the only thing running through my brain was, Please don't let them see I peed. Please don't let them smell I peed. Please just let me crawl in a hole and die right now.

Thankfully I was saved by the arrival of my order after only two minutes of standing with a forced smile and my legs clenched so hard together that I was getting sore. I grabbed up the bags while saying my goodbyes and trying to make the most graceful exit I could while still attempting to perfect my weird little "geisha walk." Based on the looks I got, I think I still have some practicing to do...

The drive back to the clinic was much less eventful. I think Someone finally took pity on me...I walked through the doors about two minutes after they finished with the last patient, so everyone just sat down in the break room to chat and commiserate about my driving experience. Well, they sat. I tried to lounge nonchalantly against a wall while eating...I had declined to tell them about my incontinence issues and they were all so focused on the food that I don't think anyone noticed that I kept my back to them at all times...But as soon as I had finished, they all pressed the leftovers on me, saying I should take them home to try and make up for the drive. (Yeah, right. Still, it was a nice gesture and it meant I wouldn't have to worry about what Patrick would attempt in the kitchen...so take them, I did.)

Patrick called to check on me as I was driving home, and wanting to know if I'd like to see a movie or do something fun after my freak show of a night. I thanked him and asked if I could take a rain check on the movie--all I had left in me to do that night was bathe before falling into bed.

Yeah, I totally wouldn't have blogged then...But on the plus side, I didn't die--from a collision or embarrassment--and I have a movie date to look forward to when I get off work tonight. Monty Python was right: "Always look on the bright side of life."   

Taking Care of Business

I do apologize for (once more) missing a night of posting. Luckily it was the last day of February, so I still can make the goal to do better in March. What happened was this: I picked up Patrick from work after spending a lovely, comfy afternoon at my sister's. (I was debating about not going because I had to do stuff around the house, and then she pointed out that she now has two sets of washing machines so I could bring laundry...I wasn't about to pass up the chance to get away from my own messes while playing around with her new space-agey equipment. Plus I actually did put a sizeable dent in my laundry pile. Happiness!)

Anyway, usually after his workdays all Patch wants to do when he gets home is vegetate in front of the TV and unwind, but last night he was bitten by some kind of productivity bug and spent most of the evening rearranging our auto insurance to ease some of our financial stress. I just went to read and lie down... Unfortunately, it turns out that the website's server was experiencing a glitch so that instead of purchasing just the one auto policy to bundle with our homeowners insurance--he bought six. The page had become unresponsive so he tried refreshing it...six times. I was woken by a stream of muffled cursing through the bedroom wall and I heard him making a terse phone call. Luckily he was able to get a hold of an insurance representative who put everything on hold until he could call during normal business hours in the morning. I was mainly surprised that I didn't get very stressed out at all by this...I just chuckled and went back to sleep.

Fast forward to today. I was scheduled to work a twelve hour shift while Patch had the day off, so we knew he'd be spending most of his morning on the phone sorting everything out. Which he was able to do--just so you know. However, it was a fairly lengthy process of back and forth phone calls between him, me, the bank, and the insurance agent...And after a busy spurt this morning, I had a lot of time on my hands so I sat down and decided to do all those annoying tasks that I keep putting off: like clearing out my email, updating my information for my student loan financing (I've been getting increasingly acerbic reminders for three months now), making a list of all my user names and passwords for the important sites that I rarely have to use--so I don't have to keep making up new ones, and paying some more bills.

Not the funnest day ever, and not much to show for the hours of work it took me to finish it all; yet, I feel like I've accomplished lots of things today. Which is good, because I'm betting that I'll probably use up the last of my motivation/energy trying to get through the last hours of this shift and I'll go home and crash. (FYI that's why I'm blogging now. I'm trying to avoid this dreaded missing post habit I've developed. Maybe if I try to blog earlier, I won't miss so much...and maybe it'll be more interesting and less of me saying how sleepy I am.)