Living with an old person is both rewarding in it’s own ways, and disgusting and exhausting. I love my grandma, and she tells me a lot of stories of growing up during the great depression and the culture of the time, but then she doesn’t flush the toilet and she asks me the same questions twice a day.
Life would be 1789732x better if I could never feel embarrassment again.
I’ve waited all year to go to the county fair, and I’m too busy to go. Just my luck. Just like I was too busy for the Irish music festival in my town, and too busy to spend time with my mom on her birthday to make her happy, and too busy to spend time with Brad on most weekends now.
I just got home from a doctor’s appointment which was a follow-up on my endoscopy (in which they took pictures of my esophagus and stomach). I was told that the damage in my esophagus from my acid reflux was mild. However, there is a spot that was bad enough to be diagnosed as Barrett’s esophagus, which means it’s precancerous. There’s a couple procedures that can be done, one involving surgery…but isn’t it ironic that the one thing that probably created this whole mess, my anxiety, is only being inflamed by this revelation? Meanwhile, not 20 minutes after I had been told I could develop cancer, my mom messages me just to find out where I was so she could bitch at me about the cat being in the house. Go mom.
Well I got the blood test done with Brad right next to me, and I suffered a panic attack resulting in 2 doctors and Brad laying me on the floor on top of a couple lab coats as I hyperventilated and waited for my vision to return and for the shaking and hot flashes to stop. Awesome.
I’m sorry if I’ve pissed anyone off.
Today is definitely not my day.
Nothing is going right.
I was late to my first class.
My sunglasses broke and sunglasses are expensive.
My bank account is fucked up.
Had to pay to ship my xbox hard drive which got fucked up.
My friends are planning a get together and I can’t go.
People on the internet.
I have to go to math class.