So, if you saw my tweets yesterday, my hubby hurt his back Wednesday night. We spent the night discussing how we were getting him to the hospital (after we discussed ACTUALLY GETTING HIM TO GO to the hospital). Then we fell asleep. Then I woke up to him on the floor, because he tried to get up and realized he couldn't walk. Anyway, so we spent yesterday morning in the hospital and came home with some strong-ass drugs. Making a doctor appt. for next week, to give his back time to RELAX. A strained or torn muscle in his lower back, due to being superman and taking our brand-new elliptical machine out of the back of his lifted truck BY HIMSELF. *grits teeth*
He doesn't like being out of control, or needing to ask for help. But I have to say I am proud of him. For the most part, he was okay with my doing everything for him, he was sweet, and we got into a little groove yesterday, and I felt like I could do this if I had to, ya know? But then he started telling me he was going to drive his ass to work today and move the elliptical machine into the house and maybe a handjob would make him feel better?, and then I was just done with him.
Because of said hubby- injury, I didn't go to Shauna's book-signing last night, and it made me sad.
And then I discovered that a large portion of my paperwork from my internship was on the zip drive that no longer works, and I was supposed to email it to my prof by today, so now I'm having to re-do some of it, and that does not make me happy at all.
And then we realized our TV won't turn on. Actually, we realized this on Wednesday, but that's not the point. The point is that I was hoping it would just miraculously fix itself while we were at the hospital. But it didn't. It won't turn on. Yet the light is on, so I know it has power going to it. What the hell? So, unless we get someone out to look at it TODAY, we will all be sitting on my bed watching TV tonight and Sunday night. Lovely. I don't like sleeping on crumbs, because TV and food go hand-in-hand in my house.
And then my Daisy's eye infection didn't miraculously fix itself. So we are going to the vet today. Seriously, she is the most.expensive.dog.ever. And while I'm on the subject of canines, I found out last night that we should be getting a phone call SOON, for a home visit, which is the next step in this adopting-a-boxer process. As I folded laundry last night, it occurred to me, that by this time next month, I could have another dog in my house. And it sorta freaked me out a bit. Not that I don't want another dog (because I really, really do), but because....well, maybe it would really really make me realize that my Kooter dog won't ever be back. Sigh. After 7 months, I still feel awful when I think of him, so filled with guilt & loneliness.
And then I rented my textbooks for this semester, and the total was 450 bucks. Seriously? Jeez.
And then I got on the scale last night. Am I a glutton, or what? Apparently I am, according to the scale. I just stood there and said 'fuck' a few times. I'm seriously considering using my elliptical machine in it's current location (in the garage) in spite of our 100 degree days around here. More sweat=more calories burned, right? RIGHT?
And then I realized that my time off from school ends on the 24th. Seriously? This has been the shortest summer ever.
And then I looked at my not-updated resume and did a few searches for jobs, and I wanted to cry. Just thinking about how I'm going to work all of this out makes me get all panicky & frazzled. Lovely.
And I'm not even going to mention (more than I already did on Twitter) the incident involving a wet fart & my favorite undies.
And then I realized it's Friday and squeee! Not that I have a thing planned, other than caring for my hubby & going batshit crazy from my 4 year old's non-stop bossiness, but whew, the weekend just sounds lovely in theory, doesn't it?
So, tell me what you have going on, so I can SERIOUSLY stop thinking about my shit.