Am writing you on Thursday night. Edsel is outside barking endlessly at nothing, a thing which I am certain pleases the neighbors and endears us to them all. Usually when he does this I get up and make him come in, but I am so exhausted and spent and sad and OVER EVERYTHING that I am sitting here typing like I don't hear it.
I have just had the dumbest day. Some of it I can't even tell you about for various reasons, but some of it I can.
Remember last week? I went to the doctor in order to score Latisse? And they would not give me play? They did, however, take a blood test to see if I had low iron, still, and low vitamin D. Today they called to say BOTH were worse than LAST time they tested me.
Clearly I am dying. Of a vitamin-D-iron-deficiency disease. And if you think trolling around on the Internet and finding diseases that present by giving someone low D and iron, and then emailing me said diseases with, "June, you should know..." is a good idea, Ima come over to your house personally and slap you with my own liver.
So I have to go BACK on the vitamin D and iron pills, which means I will (a) never poop again and (2) be nauseated all the time.
Yay! Those are two of my favorite emotions! Stopped up and sickly!
So that was bad enough. Then we got our flu shots today at work, and of course who wore something stupid so that I could not just push up my sleeve or whatever? I had to practically show the nurse all my worldly goods, there, to get the shot.
Also, I walked in and she extended her hand, so I shook it. Then I said, "You didn't want to shake my hand, did you. You wanted the paperwork."
"True," said the nice nurse, who looked a lot like my Aunt MaryEllen, "but it's very nice to meet you." Then she jabbed me with a needle. After getting to second base with my obstacle clothing.
Probably I will have a reaction to the shot because I am so dangerously low in D and iron. That is probably the perfect storm of things that cause you to turn into a chicken egg or something from a flu shot.
Oh, and speaking of which, one of the Spanish editors told me I need to be cleared today. I work with many Spanish editors, and they all dress in pretty colors, and have good hair, and basically I feel like a white frump with low iron whenever they are around.
"When bad things happen, especially when you get three things in a row like you got," said the editor, "in my culture you go to the voodoo man and get your spirit cleansed."
My best friend Donna and I are going to New Orleans in a few weeks, and if you live there I love you very much but no. We cannot get together for a special moment brought to you by Taster's Choice. Donna has a fancy job and a husband and two kids and the last time we were alone together was senior skip day in 1983. Okay, it was probably two years ago but still.
My POINT is, who's gonna drag Donna to the voodoo shop for some cleansing and purifying? Also, I will have them turn ONE of you into a chicken. You'll just have to wait to see who.
And was that enough? The iron-pooooah-blaaaad and the lack of D and the needing cleared and the getting felt up by a nurse? No. Many more things happened, and as I said I cannot reveal them due to others' privacy and my job security and so forth, but suffice it to say I went to the kitchen? At work? And there was a new Anne Lamont book on the table. There's a table in the break room that means if it's there, anyone can have it. It's where you put your doughnuts, your casseroles, your kids' things he's selling for a ski trip, whatever. And there was the new Anne Lamont book.
"I LOVE ANNE LAMONT!" I thought, grabbing the book. And burst into tears.
Seriously. Am I going through the CHANGE? I mean, I CRIED over a BOOK. I had to run to my cubicle before anyone saw me. Happy I snagged the book, though.
Then after work I had to go to Target to pick up (wait for it) vitamin D and iron pills, and I was headed to the dog food aisle that they might as well just name aisle June, when indeed I heard, "June!"
And I mean I literally heard "June." It was Faithful Reader Jessica, and I don't even know if she faithfully reads anymore, because she hasn't commented in a long time. But she and I have gotten together before, and she has appeared on this blog before, I mean not literally, but her photo has.
I grabbed her and hugged her and (yes) got weepy. "I'M SO GLAD TO SEE YOU!" I wailed. Her daughter was with her. "HIIII!" I said to the small child. "ARE YOU GETTING HALLOWEEN STUFF?!?!?"
Jessica seemed to draw her kid a little closer.
"I'm sorry," I said, my voice catching. "I've had the WORST DAY. You wanna get together soon!?!??!"
"I hope your day gets better," she said, hurrying off. She practically shuttled that kid under her arm like a football.
So. Little emo lately. Is what I'm saying.
Maybe it's the lack of iron.
Oh! And thanks for delurking yesterday, y'all! Don't be afraid to comment. We are a nice bunch. Just ask Faithful Reader Jessica.
If I have a crappy day, the cats have to share in it with me.