Anxiety

You might think that anxiety would be the last thing motivating this blog, since it's lain fallow since last fall. However that may be, anxiety is playing a big role in this week of our lives. Let's look at the schedule, shall we?
Saturday: leave Newport News and drive to Annapolis in time for the kid's piano lesson. Lesson can not be skipped because of imminent recital. Nightmare on Friday that we blew the lesson off and the teacher gave us an angry and humiliating scold, then refused to teach the kid ever again.

Sunday: Father's Day, also known as "The Day I Never Know What to do With, Since the Husband Would Probably Like Nothing More than Two Cold Beers and 14 Hours of Sleep." Sadly, I'm incapable of doing nothing, so I jittered around until hitting on the idea of Go-Karts and Mini-Golf. This was lots of fun for the boys (hurray). The smallest dark note introduced by the waiter at lunch who could not leave us alone. I felt compelled to be nice to this old dude, even though he spoke to us every three minutes. I kept having to scrub spinach out of my teeth in between bites, so I could talk to this person I didn't want to talk to. Aggravating to be interrupted so much, and even more annoying to get a hate on against such a nice old guy.

Monday: Recital rehearsal in the strangest church ever. Actually, first a checkup at the useless doctor, aka the obstetrician. They confirmed for me that I have a bladder, a pulse, and a weight. See you next month! Then run across town to the weird church. The recital is in a Baptist Funhouse, featuring gymnasium and food court. Call me traditional, but I think it is weird for a church to have a food court. The implication seems to be that you will spend so much time there that you will have to buy several meals. Also, it seems mildly blasphemous. Should you be thinking about pizza and burgers in a house of worship? Even worse, should someone be overcharging you for junkfood, in the name of G-d? Anyway, on to dinner with Whit, who is shortly off to England. Important date, because I'm losing my closest s-i-l to the Land of Poms. Naturally, had nothing to say, and spent most of the evening waiting for dinner, then wondering why I had to order the spiciest damn thing on the menu. The peanut did not approve.

Tuesday: Must get something done at work. Have to keep the primary goal, eg, graduation, in mind. Started the day with a meeting and never recovered. Did manage to get the advisor and mentor on the same page as to what I should be doing. This may save a little time, as I was badly trying to tapdance between the two, and getting little of consequence done. I could feel this was leading to another one of those lectures about staying focused and thinking like a scholar (as opposed to the doofus I play in regular life), so it was good to head that one off at the pass. As the husband said, it was time for me to be the chief, and them to be the indians. So to speak. On to the real business of the day: lunch. The spiciest leftovers in the world. A word to the wise: a heaping portion of cucumbers and yogurt on top of tongue searing thai beef is not the way to make the pregnant stomach happy for more than 20 minutes. Spent remainder of afternoon trying to concentrate on work, instead of the burning pit in my torso. Then drove across town like a maniac to get the kid, feed the kid, dress the kid, and get the kid to the recital. Happily, it went really well! Finally, a big bright spot in the week. And by the time the concert was over, so was my stomach ache:) Just in time for take-out chinese at 10 pm, accompanied by requests for a second dinner from the kid, and (entirely unreasonable) demands from the mother, via telephone, that the kid get a bath before bed. Sorry mom, not happening tonight. Good thing he swims every day in camp.

Wednesday: The husband gets a shot in his spine for the never-ending and inexplicable back pain. The day really starts with the tree people who are removing 4 huge trees from our lot that are variously diseased, hollow, or just punk-ass. Major buyer's remorse there, except it's better to have them gone than to wake up to one in the bedroom one fine day. So the kid's at camp, the husband's passed out in bed, the yard is oddly sunny, the bank account is empty, and I have to run to the eye doctor for an annual checkup that hasn't happened for at least 3 years. Here's hoping they won't notice the abysmally unclean state of the contacts, and won't tell me I'm even blinder than I was 3 years ago. Then drive home with dilated eyes, get a kid, hopefully the right one, from camp, and maybe, possibly, get some work done today!

Like I said, anxiety can be a great motivator. Let's see if I make this appointment on time...