the CIA explores the beauty salon phenomenon of frosted wheat balloons
My anxiety is back, and the swelling under my eye the size of a pinhead is Stage 5 cancer. I also sweep under the baby’s tongue once every five seconds for choking hazards, and I’ve moved the dog’s sleeping crate into the laundry room to thwart any midnight backdoor home invasion attempts. She’s locked up and only six months old, but in the dark after the top deadbolt is somehow picked from the outside (No Country for Old Men, anyone?) her bark sounds like she can bite two heads off with one snap of her puppy jaws.
Completely unenamored with the thought of anxiety medication effing with my nightly cocktails, I am stuck with the old I’m-sure-it’s-nothing method of convincing myself when the bus is late, Jordan hasn’t been picked off the sidewalk by a 20-something hipster felon originally on his way to rob a Starbucks. Or that Jon Alex isn’t terrified in the back of a windowless van unable to call 911 because I refuse to give an eight-year-old his own cell phone. The other night, my sodium intake about 100 times higher than usual from a bag of store-brand tortilla chips, I had at least five heart attacks before my body finally rejected the chips along with most of my intestinal lining.
Don’t hear from Q? Dead. Don’t hear from my mom? Dead. My dad is on his way to get the kids for the afternoon? Dead before he exits the interstate. It’s a pathological state soothed only by antidepressants that make me sleep and gain weight and you’ve only read about women more obsessed with their size twos, so, uh, no.
I have a job interview on Thursday morning, the first one since being laid off nearly seven months ago. Living outside of my head five days a week should help, plus cubicles are imagination Kryptonite.
I’ll try not to ask the hiring manager about that carcinogenic-looking mole on his neck.
1) I am posting so I am not dead.
2) I would freebase some meds right now if it meant quality sleep or feeling normal again
3) Using my last $20 to buy Firefly Sweet Tea Vodka
4) Break a leg at the interview. Yes, living outside your head may help but it won’t be nearly as exciting.
5) Get hired and THEN ask about the cancer mole.
Loveyamucho,
Tex
@Tex In The City:
For the full Firefly sweet tea vodka experience, you will need Red Diamond sweetened tea as your mixer. You may have to borrow another $7 or so.
I’m less of an asker and more of an anonymous leaver of medical literature on the desk.
Yes, there is much in this modern world that gives us things to worry about, but you worry too much. It’ll make you sick.
Crap. I didn’t mean to give you yet another thing to worry about. So I’ll not say anything about guns and texting while driving.
Can’t wait to hear how the job interview goes.
- Orion
@Orion, guns and texting while driving? What are those? Additional ways to die in car accidents? Thanks. Haha…I’ll keep you posted on the interview.
Best wishes. I hope you get the job.
Try ignoring the MOLE
@Comfort Haven, thanks for the well-wishes, and welcome to the fringe! Mole dutifully ignored.
I know! I know! Whenever Amelia is returned safely to me after a trip in the car with anyone else, I want to throw myself on the ground in relief, as I had completely resigned myself to losing my first-born child.
And whenever I’m having a really good time with my kids, and reveling in the fact there are THREE of them, I invariably spend some time looking around wondering who’s going to die.
Awful Awful. But I too don’t want anything to interfere with my alcohol consumption.
Maybe in your case it’s a touch of extremely understandably PTSD related to Jordan’s injuries? For me it’s still that visit to the doctor in which I found out our second daughter’s heart had stopped beating. Really, in an instant, all my securities about life were obliterated.
Somehow, it helps to watch horror movies. Not sure why. Some inoculating effect…
@Erica, Forensic Files and Cops help remind me most home invasions and kidnappings are carried out by someone close to the victim. Random crime can and does happen, just not as often as the nightly news wants you to believe.
Cocktails before chemicals, that’s my [new] motto. Lord knows I’ve been on every synthetic out there, including motor oil.
An interview? Awesome. Break a leg…Oops! Wrong profession, and obviously what you don’t need to hear right now.
Let us know!
@Headless Mom, if I can break a leg to get back into the paycheck market, I will! I’ll let you know how it goes…