So, you know those days where you just don’t feel like doing anything productive at all? Yeah. I’ve had one of those days. Don’t get me wrong. I’ve gotten a few things accomplished today. I sat in the doctor’s office for like 2 hours in order to spend 10 actual minutes with the doctor and FINALLY get a prescription for something to help me sleep. If you go to the doctor’s office, and, when you get there, the doctor is out delivering a baby, don’t you think they should tell you that when you sign in? Instead of, oh, an hour after your appointment time, and the nurse comes out to the waiting room and announces to the crowd at large “Dr. So-and-So’s patients: he had to go deliver a baby, but he’s back now, and seeing patients again, so he’ll get caught up.” Really? WHY did you not tell me this when I signed in? I could have gone and ran an errand or something, instead of staring in barely-disguised horror at all the pregnant women around me, thanking God I don’t have kids and don’t intend to have any. Uh, just so we’re clear, I don’t have a primary care doctor, but my ob/gyn is awesome, so he’s the one treating me for my depression/insomnia. THAT’S why I was surrounded by pregnant women. Don’t judge me…

Ahem.

The Diva and I decided to kick off our fast a week early, so we started on the 1st (of course). I’m fasting from fast food. Most of it is crap anyway, and I need to eat healthy, so THAT is certainly not what I need to be putting into my body. The Diva gave up drinking. While I think this is a fantastic idea, I haven’t had a drink in months, so I don’t really feel it’s fair to give up something I have, in essence, already given up. Not that I’m anti-drinking. But I am anti-mixing-new-meds-with-drinking. Just sayin’. We have both given up cussing. Or, more accurately, we are both attempting to give up cussing. This…this is a challenge so monumental as to be almost laughable. The first day (when I was home ALONE except for the cats), The Diva and I had this conversation via text:

Me: …I already cussed at the cat….(In my defense, he plopped his butt RIGHT in my face!)

The Diva: I said the f word in the car at Starbucks. Okay. I’m starting over….starting now.

As you can see, we are models of self-control. Models, I tell you. Yesterday at work, she decided we needed a swear jar. I refused to participate. Frankly, I can’t count that high. And our boss makes enough money. She doesn’t need $5,000 in quarters a month from my inability to NOT mutter obscenities every other breath. This is more or less how the day went:

Me (after something, however minor, went wrong): Sh*t! (Followed almost immediately by “D**nit” as I realized I’d cussed…then compounded the mistake.)

Now multiply that by about ten times, and that’s how well I did yesterday. The Diva, on the other hand, discovered she’s just fantastic at not cussing….in 15-minute increments, anyway. That appears to be her time limit. Our patients, whom we told the details of our fast to, were endlessly entertained by our slip-ups. On the upside, I’m at least aware of when I’m cussing now…

Note to self: next time you decide to fast, try to pick something you’ve got a chance at actually succeeding at.

Also on a side note, what’s up with these?

The Diva just sent me a picture of these from the mall. We proceeded to embarrass her 16-year-old daughter immensely with our whispered commentary via speakerphone. Then, of course, The Diva had to ask the saleswoman “Excuse me, Ma’am, but what are these? And what on earth do you wear them with?” I imagine that didn’t help her daughter’s embarrassment.

Good times…

Next time, if I’ve calmed down a bit, I’ll relate my newest (and possibly last) interaction with Superman…and his insufferable ego.