Monday, November 16, 2009

I've Had Better Mondays

[This one’s for the women; consider yourself warned.]

Generally speaking I like Mondays. I usually have a good-sized project I’m looking forward to making headway on—nothing exciting or anything unless you count the little thrill I feel when I get to take something off my list.

Such tremendous plans I always have but I’m usually happy if I accomplish half of it. This morning definitely did not work out that way. I meant to get a closet cleaned out but only ended up downloading PAF software for Michael Jr. to work on, entering information about one person, getting confused, and giving up. It was like an accordion problem, expanding to fill the time I had.

It was less time than usual; I had a doctor’s appointment at 10:50 a.m.

I don’t like these appointments but I imagine I’d be some sort of deviant if I did. It’s the Semi-Annual Poke and Prod, as I call it and it’s just something you grit your teeth and will your way through.

As I walked up to the receptionist’s desk to check in, I noticed a sign that read, “Please Turn Off Your Cell Phone While in Our Office”. Are you kidding me? And rely on their magazines to pass the time? I don’t think so. I did bring a project I’m working on so I was able to kill some time crocheting like the little old lady I secretly am.

Once called back I kicked off my shoes and reluctantly jumped on the scale. Nuts. Even without the shoes I weighed more than I thought. On that happy note I was shown to a room, asked a few routine questions, then left to disrobe.

I hate this part. It’s never warm enough in the little room, the magazines aren’t within reach and they’re lame (this time my selection included Conceive, Web MD, and Ebony), and the wait seems interminable. I decided it was just too weird to sit half naked crocheting so I fished my phone out of my purse and played with the Shazam application, tagging the songs assaulting my second sense. I remember Dr. Dre and Ace of Base but the rest were all just as offensive.

(Truth be told, none of it could hold a candle to the Kenny G I was forced to listen to while waiting on hold with K12 Saturday night. Completely inexcusable and it will result in a (most likely) unheeded complaint.)

So, thirty long minutes later there’s finally a knock on the door and the nurse walks in. Inane pleasantries are exchanged, she pulls out the stirrups, and gets down to business. I stare at the poster of pink bougainvillea and happy blue sky on the ceiling and imagine myself somewhere else, decidedly more vertical.

Then it’s over for another six months. Yes, six months. Lucky me.

As a side note, I came home to another classic Josh catastrophe. The older two made the mistake of letting him use the bathroom with the door closed. We’ve already learned that Josh hasn’t earned bathroom privacy but they hate to have the door open when he’s in there. When they went to check on him he told them to go away. The smell told them they’d better not and they opened the door to see he’d dumped out several bottles of nail polish in multiple shades of pink (for some reason I had the reds all on a higher shelf out of reach). Every day it’s a fresh mess, isn’t it?
Posted by Picasa

No comments:

Post a Comment

So, what do you think?