Tomorrow is another day (of data entry)

Since Im’s departure on Monday, I have descended once more into the dark, dark depths of coffee dependency. In a moment of clarity, I realized that, thanks to c*ncer, I have given up binge eating (…mostly) and running. Also, kicking things, jumping up and down (referred to by some as “tantrums”), and all other leg exercises/forms of masochism/displays of vast immaturity previously used to recover from MASS TRAUMA. (Yes, this week has included moments of perpetual self-pity.) I now present you with this week’s trauma breakdown.

(hold on to your stuffed animals)

Trauma Count (4/11-4/17)

- Spider sitings: 2 in the last eight hours => infinite in the last 7 days.

I named one particularly frightening spider Frank in an attempt to slightly decrease my feelings of ever expanding terror, and then, mother squashed him. I feel that naming spiders and then leading them to their demise (indirectly or directly) is somehow worse for my karma than anonymous spidercide.

- Dentist visits (one of the few things more terrifying than spiders): 1

- Novocaine shots (anesthesia, please?): enough to keep the left side of my face too numb to eat chocolate chip cookies (to spawn thousands of additional cavities, leading to yet more self pity, in an endless, inescapable cycle of life tragedy) for two hours.

- Surprise medical bills: 2

- Sense of humor regarding medical bills (surprise or otherwise):

- Hours worked at data entry temp job: 40

Received: one Rebate-For-Jesus suggesting I find religion; a mountain of forms from “Brenda”, whose life purpose is to successfully procure a free glucose meter; and 5 money-back requests from people who swear the mouthwash made their tongue turn black, permanently destroyed their taste buds, rendered their sink forever purple, or, in some other way, irreparably damaged their life.

- Debates over transgender rights initiated before 9am: 1 (in hindsight, this was really not a good idea)

- Im’s lost to the other side OF THE UNIVERSE: 1  OR  Individuals currently willing to make me waffles: 0

In conclusion, I have decided I have a right to coffee dependency by virtue of the spider count (=INFINITY) alone. At least I can eat cookies now.

Other sources of salvation:

- the dog that sat at the table across from me in Erie Island Coffee yesterday (<3);

- the re-appearance of Jay at work (who has no idea he is my future BFFL, nor that he will ultimately supplant the racist 23-year-old who insists on sitting at my lunch table);

- managing to make my own waffles with minimal disaster;

- and finally, solidarity with one Sasha-the-Siberian-Husky-Dog, who spent the week hiding her nose (husky moping):

Everyone misses the Im!