Thursday, March 11, 2010

I'm becoming a therapist!

At least then when I analyze myself, it will be a professional opinion, not just an amateur.

I've been a basket case this week. More yelling than usual, a nervous stomach, some mild depression. What's up?

Part of it is leaving town for the weekend. I'm taking a jet plane to an exotic locale to run a relay with my former coworker. I like to leave the laundry done, the frig full, and the house somewhat clean before I go.

Part of it is realizing after two and a half years here that we're still in limbo. If this is an extended object lesson from God that nothing on earth is permanent - I GET IT!!! Can't I just have a teeny bit of permanence? I guess I have, just not on paper.

Part of it is going to the doc for the first time in a couple years. More than that. I haven't seen an OB/Gyn since maybe 2005? I've still had exams, since midwives run their tests through labs (not just cauldrons) but I haven't seen an M.D. She seems to be a fabulous doc. So fabulous that she detected something out of sorts uterus-wise. I plan to credit the birthing of two 11-pounders in a row unless the upcoming follow-up tests say different.

Part of it might be Charles Dickens' fault. This Little Dorrit might be the death of me. I will have lots of dreamy reading time on my weekend away, so I need to consider if it's Dickens I want to spend it with.

Anyway... it's time for me to get licensed. Then you can tell me your problems, too - and I can charge you!
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