Diary of an Insane Woman

Today is making my insides feel all sorts of bad.

I decided to stay up last night reading and writing.  I was up until almost 1am which is at least 3 hours past my bedtime on a workday.  But, since I didn’t have to work today, I figured I’d be OK.  Child and I were up by 6 AM and I started my day in the usual manner.  I got him dressed for school and here’s where my insanity started.

The child has sprinkler day at school, which is day care/summer camp/whatever.  This means he has to wear his swim pants, shirt and shoes and use one of the three beach towels we own.  These are the same items that I need to pack for our trip.  So as I’m dressing him, I’m mentally preparing myself for the fact that no matter what I do, I cannot *finish* packing until he gets home and I clean his swim stuff.  I can’t start something when I know I can’t finish it all at once.  It sets off a terrible cycle of procrastination.

One of my tasks today was to buy shorts.  The shorts I have don’t fit.  They barely fit last summer when I shook a fist and proclaimed I’d lose weight.  Instead, I gained weight and my ugly fat shorts don’t fit.  So I had to go buy uglier fatter shorts today.  But, the store mostly had my old fat size and one size above my current fat size but not the stupid fat size that I needed.  On the plus side (pun intended, haha!), I guess I’m in good company if they sold out of that size.  Sorry for calling you ladies fat.  Finally I found some shirts and shorts – and a skort! – and left the store but not without worrying I wouldn’t have appropriate clothes.

I went to the shoe store to replace my Sketchers that I love so dearly but are falling apart.  And, of course, the store I bought them at doesn’t have them anymore.  Awesome.  I settle on a different pair that are truthfully probably just as good and go to the register where some woman has decided to a) criticize the establishment endlessly for their poor selection of boys’ dress shoes and b) ask to see every single pair of Tevas in the store’s online catalog so she can do a site-to-store ship.  How you get from dress shoes to Tevas is beyond me.  After 10 minutes of waiting, I was finally helped but I could feel myself getting antsy.

Next up was a mani-pedi.  My hands tend to look like I’m actually a field worker, so this was a bit of a treat.  I am constantly concerned that someone will think I have scraggly skanky feet, so I’ve been getting pedicures regularly.  It’s not that I like to be pampered or I have tons of free time.  It’s that I’m convinced that everyone I meet will look down at my feet and talk about me when I walk away.  I’m a little insecure sometimes.  But this woman who did the mani-pedi cut my cuticles and I think she was trying to get deep down into my actual body and stop regrowth from the source.  It was painful.

Then she noticed that I have what can feel like a plantars wart on the bottom of my foot.  It isn’t.  One day when I was about 11 I stepped on a nail that went through my shoe and almost through my foot.  It left a knot under my skin.  I tried to explain this to her but she didn’t understand me.  While my words may not have been in her language, the face she was making was certainly universal.  And by all means, Woman, keep touching it and making that face.

So, after all this I pick up something for lunch and head home.  This is when I saw my phone wasn’t working even though I was JUST texting my husband a little while earlier.  It said there was no SIM card inserted.  After my consultation with Twitter didn’t produce immediate results, I had to find the landline and use that ancient thing.

I called Apple Care and a lovely woman explained that my warranty was up (of course!) and so was my phone service plan (of course!) but for $29.99 I can have one session over the phone and that might help.  And through my tears of panic I agreed and I paid and she asked me what I had done so far.  I told her I did the hard reboot and turned it off and on and then she asks if I checked the SIM and I tell her that I don’t know how to find that.  Long story short (too late), all I had to do was pop out the SIM card, blow on it and put it back and I was golden.  I professed my undying love for Apple Chick and I’m pretty sure she just wanted me off the phone.  My $30 is good though for 30 days if the problem occurs again and I need to call back.  But hopefully I’ll remember where the SIM card is.

At this point, sufficiently worked up in a frenzy, I decided that I must finally order these damn business cards for BlogHer and I had to just stop fussing about it and do it.  I know, I know, you’re so tired of hearing about these cards but I wanted to put my picture on them so people will know I’m me but the problem is that I don’t want to look like me.  It is ridiculous and I’m making too much of it and I am really not this vain but seriously I don’t want these cards to look like shit because then everyone I meet will go home and laugh at my stupid card.*

At least they won’t be laughing at my skanky feet because I plan to get another pedicure before the conference.  But now that I mentioned it, I’m going to be worried someone will check to see if I kept my word and look even more intently at my feet.  That’s it, I’m keeping my running shoes on the whole time.

Now I’ve just remembered the 5k.  Sigh.  I’m going to need new fat shorts for running.

Deep breaths…  You’ll relax when you get to California…

Did I mention how much going through airports freaks me out?

*The cards are ordered and they look fine.  I won’t say they are good or bad and if you meet me please don’t stare too long at the card because I’ll assume the worst.

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One Response to “Diary of an Insane Woman”

  1. Amanda says:

    I haven’t found shorts that fit in years and have given up. I wear jeans to the beach. I’m really fat though. What annoys me though is my husband is equally as overweight and he can just walk into a regular store (not one for fat people) and find a million pairs in his size that look just fine.

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