My brain is slowly peeking out of its writer's block fog...the other night, in the shower, I started thinking about a new non-fic piece. It might actually work better as fiction, but I'm an awful fiction writer, so I'm nervous about taking it there. We'll see. Reminder to self: write notes.
Things are slowly improving with my parents. My dad took my mom out to dinner the other night and got her a card for Valentine's day, along with some roses. I want to say that it's not enough, but I hope that little things lead to big improvements here. I hate having so much resentment toward my dad...but I hate that he insists on drinking until my mom has a nervous breakdown too. I've still been volleying the idea of writing about that whole situation on here, but there are still some things I need to work through. Too much comes flooding out when you start repeating the worst moments of your childhood.
I had a fun conversation with B.W. the other night about Bob Seger, Lil' Wayne and Irish wakes that somehow led to me downloading Van Morrison's "Wild Nights" and Leroux's "New Orleans Ladies," both of which I've been listening to almost non-stop. I wonder when my neighbors will tire of hearing "allllll the waaa---ayyy/from bourbon street/to ES-pla-naaade/they sashay by/they sassshay byyyyyyy."
Yesterday, compelled by who knows what reason, I decided I absolutely needed A New Dress. I ended up buying a cute little black dress with white embroidery (and SLEEVES!), prompting Erin to comment, "you need another black dress with white embroidery like a hole in the head." (this will bring the count to 4 if you count the black dress with an embroidery-style print.) I also got this insane 70's esque red printed maxi dress. Generally, I hear short girls shouldn't wear maxi dresses but I'm a sucker for anything that makes me feel like I could be sipping drinks on a lanai (also the sole reason I own a red muumuu).
Erin and I also had the following conversation:
me: I did think of you though
I was like "I'm buying a red dress! erin would be proud!"
is it weird that I thought to myself, of the black dress, "I can wear this to the doctor's office tomorrow!"
that's kind of weird :P
me: mostly because we're having warm weather out and I like wearing dresses to the gyno
but planning your gyno visit outfit is a little strange
just a little
Speaking of that particular visit, I think I'm being more neurotic than usual in planning for it. I made a list of questions, mostly about potentially getting the Garadasil vaccine and about the PCOS. I also made a list of my current and former medications, with dosages and frequency, AND I made notes of the start and end dates of my last period and of the last time I had sex. I am PREPARED. I just hate that feeling of walking out of a doctor's office and remembering some big thing that you wanted to talk to them about. And I hate being disorganized and potentially giving incorrect information (as in the case of the dates). I've also worked in the medical field long enough to know how much nicer it is for the nurses when a patient has all this together. In that vein, I also had my old medical records faxed over. Which, public service announcement, you should always do. ESPECIALLY in the case of going from specialist to specialist. I know people think it's not important, but a physician is much better equipped to treat you when they have medical notes of your former treatment in front of them. DO IT.
I also scheduled a haircut, a ride from the mechanic (and lunch!) and a trip to the DMV to finally get a New Orleans license. In Baton Rouge. Getting shit done. LIKE AN ADULT.
Lastly, I got some wonderful information today. Back in July, I got in a wreck (which, let me just say, if you are in the middle of ending your 3 year relationship, quitting your job, moving out of your apartment, and incredibly worried about money, don't get in a wreck. Never in my life have I wanted so much to just exit my vehicle and step into oncoming traffic.). Basically things went down as follows: I was stopped in a driving lane. To my left was a median that turned into a left turn lane (which I needed to be in and which was empty). I merged over and drove forward, not realizing that the car in front of the car I was behind was turning left (because she was not in the turn lane). She turned into my car, probably going about 10 mph, but enough to damage both cars. We pulled into a parking lot, her passenger left the scene and went to work. I got out and asked if everyone was okay (they were) and then I called the police. I was ticketed for "improper lane usage." The other driver was not ticketed, which was bullshit.
After this, we went back and forth with the insurance companies. State Farm investigated for a month (which involved me talking to 3 adjustors and an investigator) and finally decidd there was mutual fault. When this happened, the other driver decided to tell her ins. that she and her passenger had been injured. So there were more interviews (I mean, honestly? 3 months later, with no doctor notes, no ambulance at the scene and no passenger even listed on the police report because she was gone?) and State Farm shot that down. Meanwhile, I went to court for the ticket, intending to take a defensive driving course to get it removed, only to find out that the officer had never turned the ticket in. Then her ins. decided to sue State Farm for the costs of her vehicle. MORE interviewing. Today, I got a call from State Farm telling me that an independent adjustor declared mutual fault. My deductible, which was renewed in the midst of all this, will go down and State Farm is going to refund me $250 that I wouldn't have paid if this had been resolved before my renewal. My response, after hanging up, was EAT A BAG OF DICKS, YOU LYING BITCH. An. Entire. Bag.
I had my job eval today and they told me what a good job I'm doing. It kind of made me care about that job a little. Which was nice; sometimes I feel useless there because there's no challenge. But it pays the bills for my lovely little abode and my dresses and whiskey habits and the food remnants left on those plates that I need to go wash before I leave.