Big Girls Don't Cry: What a Fallacy

Well, I’m still sick. It’s getting better, but it’s sure taking its sweet time. I made it to both work and class today, though, and that’s a huge achievement it seems like. However, the check engine light came on in my car on the drive to school, and I dumped my lunch all over the place. I almost started crying in the middle of the student union. But, I didn’t. I just went and bought a salad and some caffeine. I think I am starting to PMS, because that’s the only thing I can come up with why I am so emotional. I wasn’t emotional at all until I was in a ton of pain, and then once that eased up, I was fine again. Now I am like “I spilled my pretzels and hummus. My life is a sham.” I don’t exactly function on a schedule, so it’s a bit of a crap shoot as to whether or not I’m seriously being crazy or if it’s just hormones. Thank you, PCOS.

The cat peed on the ottoman again. I am pretty sure I am beginning to plot her demise. It’s the one piece of furniture that I cannot remove the cover to, so of course it’s the coolest thing to pee on. I have a huge aversion to cat-smell, too. So, after I cleaned it up, I went and bought Febreeze, another wax warmer, and random other cleaning stuff for the house. My house will never ever smell like cat. The Mr. suggests getting rid of Bob, because 3 cats is a bit too much. But, I say, we brought him into the house and let him make it his home and us his family. I would feel terrible to get rid of him. I don’t do the getting rid of animals thing. Even if he was an accidental acquisition. Plus, he’s not even the cat who pees on things. Anyway, I am always under the impression that I smell cat pee. Even when the smell isn’t there. And now the Mr. isn’t home to tell me it isn’t here, so I will just make the house smell like a Bath and Body Works store.

I also got power steering fluid. I am on a new kick. I will learn how to maintain my car. I knew I needed power steering fluid, because my car whined when I turned the wheel. I know I need a new battery – I have since my way-too-long-ago last oil change. I’m considering switching it out myself. I also want to figure out how to change my own oil, but that might not happen yet – I have a free oil change to use, after all. But, I’m awful proud of myself. I popped the hood, deciphered which of the 47 reservoirs was the power steering fluid, checked it, and filled it. In the Wal-Mart parking lot. At 9 at night. I didn’t even get stabbed! Go me! I never used to feel self conscious in parking lots, at night, by myself, but the Mr. has instilled a ridiculous amount of fear in me. He’s pretty much convinced I’m going to die a horrible death at the hand of a band of masked stagecoach robbers, or something. In my natural state, I am not even close to that paranoid.

Unfortunately, the Mr. has started working as of today. That means that we won’t be doing much of the talking thing, thanks to the time difference and our respective schedules. It’s time to invoke the mantra - At least I don’t have it as bad as the wives in WWII. I need to remember that I am damn lucky to be able to talk to the Mr. even once a week. The advent of the internet, smart phones, etc. has made communication during wartime so much more available than it was for the previous generations. I have it easy as pie, comparatively. So, I will just continue to throw myself at making care packages and other mail-ables for him. Although, I need to slow my roll or we won’t have any money left, because I will have spent it all on sending him stuff.

xoxo

R.

Tagged: Illness, College, communication, deployment, fur babies, pcos, Xena, PMS, work, car maintenance, mantra, WWII, Rosie the Riveter