I didn’t sleep well last night. DH is getting a cold/sinus infection thing so he snored more than usual last night, which kept waking me up. He finally woke me up (officially) around 7:00 so I could get ready for my date with Dracula, and I proceeded to lay around until 7:15, and I was starving. Probably because I knew I couldn’t eat and it’d been over twelve hours already since food had touched my lips.
I walked into the kitchen and DH was fixing himself a lunch and he goes “Do you want me to fix you some breakfast?” and immediately apologized because as much as I really wanted that strawberry toaster strudel with a side of Honey Bunches of Oats and a big ol’ glass of Simply Orange with no pulp, breakfast was a no-go for launch this morning.
On my way back into the bedroom, I noticed the cat was sitting in a very precarious position on the couch. Guess what. The little bastard decided that the couch was an EXCELLENT place to take a leak. Now, before you go thinking I’m some cat-piss “aficionado” let me say that Cooper does use his litter box regularly. However, at some point this year, he also decided that furniture was just as dandy for the occasional in-between time when he can’t be bothered to cross the room.
No worries, though. The couch cushions have been replaced and the cushion covers have been washed and I do not live in the sort of filth in which others allow themselves to live, or sleep. AT the rate I’m going, though, I should find a foam company and buy stock. Cooper has an appointment at the vet at 2:30 to have his urine checked for infection. I think he’s just being an ass.
So, after that, DH asks if I want him to take Annie to Doggie Daycare today. (See, I really DO love my animals…so much so that one of them goes to freaking daycare.) I say to him “That’s really up to you since you’re the one that has to deal with it” to which he replies “I wish you wouldn’t be so nonchalant about this.” Uh, he’s really the one who has to deal with our 85 pound beast when she’s being checked in and all she can think is PLAYPLAYPLAYNOWNOWNOW. And, I’m also not the one who has to work until 6:30 tonight and then pick the dog up after work and then drive a minimum of 45 minutes to get home. So, he decides she needs to go and he’s going to take her.
It is now 7:45 and I’m supposed to meet Dracula at 8:30.
I get in the shower and I hear DH come into the bathroom to tell me that he is not, in fact, going to be able to take the dog to daycare because his truck is iced over and he has to wait for it to thaw before he can leave and the waiting will put him that much further behind and make him that much later for work and is this ok with me. Yes. It’s ok with me. Annie has been a nightmare since I returned from the dreaded visit.
I get to the doctor’s office at 8:40 and sign in and Bitchy Blonde receptionist looks at me with this “?” look on her face and I proceed to hold up three fingers hoping she gets the memo that I’m here for a torture session. She seems to, and then I don’t get called back for another 15 minutes.
When I do finally get called back to Dracula’s lair, I break into a fit of tears and have to ask for a tissue so I can wipe my snotty nose. I knew mascara was a bad idea this morning. I have not cried about having my blood drawn during this entire pregnancy. Not even once. This morning more than made up for that. I was crying so hard one of the nurses even came over to console me. I’m sure that when I walked back into the waiting room with my red nose and puffy eyes people thought something much worse had just happened to me than what actually did.
I drank my super sweet Lil’ Hug and waited. And cried some more, and waited. The good news is that I wasn’t sobbing. I just had wells of tears that kept spilling and threatening to spill over my lids. Still, I’m sure I was quite the spectacle. And I kept waiting. Good thing I brought a fabulous book along with me (The Art of Racing in the Rain by Garth Stein. I recommend it!).
The time is now 9:01. I return to the lair and, surprisingly enough, the needle stick in the same place as the first one doesn’t hurt a bit. I barely felt it. Needle sticks three an hour later hurt like an SOB, so Dracula suggests maybe we should do the fourth blood draw from the other arm. Which we did. Only that one hurt worse than any of the previous three. Apparently my left arm, while not being particularly dextrous, also resents being stabbed with sharp objects.
I honestly don’t think I’ve ever left the office faster than I did today. I flew home to make myself a grilled cheese sandwich and a bowl of beef-flavored Ramen. I also had a HUGE glass of Diet Pepsi and a Ghirardelli milk chocolate and caramel square.
And now it’s time to take Cooper the Ass to the vet where I will inevitably wait some more. At least I’ve had a lot of practice at waiting today. Annie is still being a terror.
My day isn’t even over yet.