Thursday, December 01, 2011

Wanted: Functioning Brain. Or Xanax. Either One Works.

I'm fairly certain my brain has vacated my skull.  My reasonings for this are far to vast for me to recall, but I'll give you a few examples.

(1) The vet has called several times in the last week and a half about anything from updating us on Bishop's current medical crisis to sending him home and calling every other day to ask us about Bishop's current medical crisis.  My brain became so muddled I asked the very patient doc to please call my uncle [who is also a vet] and relay all this information to him so he could, in turn, help me translate and make an actual informed decision on what's best for our pup instead of trying to guess which door was hiding the All Expenses Paid Caribbean Vacation Package to Aruba Where Someone Will Toss My Dead Body Into the Water and Get Away With Murder!

Believe me, that door prize would have been a welcomed relief after all the crazy shit that's gone down.

(2) My house is a wreck.  I've found myself retreating to my bedroom every night only to fall asleep at some ungodly early hour so I can wake up, feel disgusted at the state of my house and march the children out the door for some activity that has nothing to do with cleaning my filthy house.  Anyone who knows anything about me knows that a dirty house drives me up the mother fucking wall.  And, yet, I haven't done a thing about it.  Not one thing past bare minimum.

And (3) Today, I took the girls to get their Christmas pictures.  Every year, after I make them sit still and behave like muted, hogtied monkeys as I pick out what to order, I reward them with a trip to see Santa.  I also shell out bare minimum to purchase the smallest portrait package available for a keepsake photo.  This year's picture?  Left on Sears' bathroom floor.  I realized this, oooh.... about 4 hours after the fact.  And an hour away from Sears. 

Now I'm in a debate with my brain of do I call Sears to see if someone found my lost 5x7's or do I chalk it up to a $20 keepsake gone and never to return. 


Jer tells me I'm probably over scheduled.  And I'd be willing to guess he's right.  I haven't stopped life except to run small children and pets back and forth to doctor's appointments.  Which, come to think of it, isn't really stopping-- is it?   

I need a vacation.  Not necessarily one to Aruba.  But not one to a corn field in the middle of harvest season, either. 

[Oh, hey!  Didn't I tell you?  We went to The Land of the CornHusker and on Halloween night Lydia came home with a rashy face!  To what we can only assume to be all the corn whatnots VISIBLY FLOATING through the air.  Boy, that was good times!  Keeping 6 small children in the house for a week so one of them doesn't come back looking like splotchy awesomeness...]

Better yet, maybe what I need is a good doctor that could get me a Xanax prescription. 

I wonder if they prescribe it intravenously...?

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