you're making it hard, Universe
Do you ever feel as though the Universe makes unreasonable demands upon your adulthood, and then you feel bitter because if someone like Tara Reid can have a personal assistant, you Totally deserve one too, and if you had a personal assistant he/she could take care of the odious things you have to do but would rather stick a fork into your thigh than actually do? ME TOO! It's like you and I are the same person, Interweb. I am speaking, of Course, about going to the doctor, because I've been feeling periodically weird--like my Synthroid dose might be too high--but I only just decided this morning to be an adult about it and contact my doctor. Basically I was giving the Universe a lot of time to get things straightened out for me, but the Universe declined to provide assistance, so I had to once again surmount my lingering fear of doctors ON MY OWN without benefit of someone to do it for me. Oh the humanity! I sent my doctor an email requesting a lab appt. to get my thyroid levels checked, and I hope she's not on vacation, because my pills are running out and I'd rather not refill my current dose if it's too high. See also: procrastinated too long about contacting the doctor.
A thank-you to Laura for letting me know she can see my old entries, because I can see them now too; the Diaryland Fairies fixed them to me, and I didn't realize it because I recently changed my D-land email address and forgot to check the hotmail address I have stuff going to now. Anyway, 2 years worth of entries are Not Lost, and that makes me very happy.
I've got no more time for updating today, sweetie darlings--I'm leaving early to see the Boy distinguish himself at his track meet, so I need to cut it short for today.
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