So Easy To Get Derailed

Oh today was not a good day, not a good day at all. I am sitting here fuming and steaming and sputtering all sorts of frustration and anger and confusion and irritation. It all started when I get a before-noon call from a long-time friend in town for business sitting at the darn guard gate to my apartment wanting to know if I can buzz him in. Of course his reasoning is that I don't work so don't have anything to do. Arrrrg! That one makes me so mad. I frantically throw the dirty laundry sitting on the living room floor into the basket and wheel it back into the bedroom, hurriedly scrub the toilet in the guest bath and empty the trash, unlock the front door, turn on the TV so he has something to do and fling myself into the shower. Scrub scrub, shave shave, rinse rinse. Throw on my clothes, iron my hair, dab on a little blush and gloss and I return to the living room to greet my guest. He is sitting on my love seat working on his computer while Porkie eyes him suspiciously from across the room. I package up my orders and print out the new Fibromyalgia Crusade information postcard I have just finished. The plan of action is to photocopy the information card at Kinko's, stuff the orders and head to the post office. Mind you I have confirmed lunch plans with my friend.

So we head out to the copy shop where I am given the most atrocious service by a man that has either failed to learn his job or has never been trained. I leave fuming, swearing I will never go back, with 20 pages of clean white card stock and no information cards for my orders! We head to the post office and I start sealing up my packages, feeling horribly unprofessional. I direct him to turn in a little bit, a few lights down once we merge to one lane, and give him the street name to turn right on. As I am filling out a customs form I look up and have no idea where we are! He had turned at the next light, reciting that I told him to turn right. Well right about now I am seeing red, all the streets twist and turn and merge together and change directions so after a couple of attempts, with my lunch date repetitively texting me that she is starving, I direct him towards home. We were halfway there anyway. So no information cards and nothing sent. I suppose the steam billowing from my ears prompts him to put on Reggae music and tell me to chill out. However, it was HORRIBLE Reggae music and only served to piss me off even more!

Oh but it does not end there my friends. I come home from a very pleasant lunch with my girlfriend to loads of family drama and spend an hour on the phone running interference between a bunch of angry people. At this point my head is splitting and I am not doing well. Then I sit down at the computer to tend to my business, a source of drama entirely on its own. Apparently I am not a person with feelings, but am expected to mechanically and magically solve and satiate the large breadth of problems a certain style of Fibromyalgia patient has. For so many are amazingly wonderful but a handful have mistaken me as a punching bag. I mean I know Prednisone made my face look like a volleyball, but it is not a volleyball and YOU ARE NOT ALLOWED TO PUNCH ME! Was this the girl who wrote not to give your power away, when was it, yesterday? It can't be. I was just 3 days into burying myself in the neuropathways of less stress and more acceptance. Recognizing that if something does not get done today there is always tomorrow. The world will not cease to rotate on its axis if I don't get ______ done right now. And ultimately what has happened is done, and all we have is the moment right now. So I am gonna get back on the train of positive, go curl up with the puppies and watch some General Hospital. They have SO much more drama than I could ever dream of. And yes Miss Scarlett, tomorrow is another day.

Thanks for joining,

Leah