Seriously. I had to call in late again this morning. My husband's disability is going to be the end of my job and then we'll be SOL. My job covers our insurance and the rate he's going...oh, I don't even want to think abut it.
But then, once I get to work, I can't concentrate worth crap. He'll call and totally throw me off. Call this person, call that person, did you ask this? Why not? Call back!
And the dreaded "I'll only keep you a minute." of course, his minute is like an hour.
I get so upset when we hang up and my stomach gets tied in knots and then I'm worried about going to the bathroom, because I can't poop in a public restroom. So I worry about whether or not the handicapped bathroom will be available when I get there and if not, what do I do then? Go to the ladies room and hope no one is in there? Oh the agony of poop shame!
Sometimes I hate my life. No, strike that. A lot of times I hate my life. It's completely within my ability to change it and yet I don't. There is some masochistic streak in me that feels this is the life I deserve. I'd never kill myself, though, so no worries there! I'll just bitch and moan about my life here.
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