Tuesday, July 06, 2010

fire burnin', fire burnin' on the dance floor...

Today made me understand why people will refer to "cope" as a quantifiable commodity. Because today? I was running very low on cope, myself.

At work today, everyone was vaguely cranky and as the product/project manager, guess who gets to deal with the cranky? Or with the people who want someone to blame for things not going exactly their way? Or the people who want to act vaguely mad at me and/or passive-aggressive? Oh yeah, that would be, the lucky girl who gets to deal with all of that and more. Fortunately for me, my Irish/Italian upbringing and my third-kid-ness have prepared me well for such things, so most of the time it's laughable and leaves me with a feeling of "Seriously? You wanna blame me for things I had nothing to do with? That all ya got? Still tough now, punk?!!"

I left work to go to the gastro doc, which I had been dreading. Rightly so. Yours truly has been getting heartburn, which is not supposed to happen after one has had one's innards sliced and diced.  The gastro doc wants to do an EGD, which means they'll put a tube down my throat and take a look around, and make sure Seymour the pouch looks okay and that my remnant stomach looks okay too. I did NOT like getting this news or signing the consent forms today, but the bright spot, if there is a bright spot, is that I can get this done on Monday, so it will be all over with before I go on my fabulous vacation to Mexico, and I won't have to worry about it then.  But still, it left me with considerably less cope than I had when I went into the doctor's office.

Then, as I drove home, I heard on the traffic report that I should avoid my usual route because of an overturned truck, so I made a few wrong turns through the Polish part of Trenton and then the scary part of Trenton before I found my way. While I was thinking "OMG, I can NOT deal with this now" I glanced up at my outside temperature gauge, which told me it was 108 degrees. I figured that was far too hot for crime so I was probably safe. Then I thought the Beetle was making a funny noise -- the problem with driving a diesel is that it makes a LOT of noise and apparently when I'm cope-deficient, I think every noise is a bad noise. At this point I almost teared up at the thought of something being wrong with my Beetle (see, I told you I couldn't deal today) but I stayed calm and drove home.

I'm not all complaints today, though. Tonight was really pretty awesome. I went to a really good Zumba class and danced my ass off, and then afterward treated myself to some sugar-free Italian water ice, came home and watched TV with my favorite cat.  And now it's time for a good night's sleep which I hope will help restore my usual level of cope. Or at the very least perhaps enable me to stop talking about it like it's a quantifiable commodity.

You never know.

1 comment:

Snooze said...

Sleep is always the magic remedy