Bad...Everything Day. Week.

Well, I've felt like crap all week. A lot. Throbbing pains in my right leg, calf, ankle, and foot like being hit by an electric cattle prod (or how I imagine one feels. I've never actually been electrically prodded). Then I had a crisis with one of my paid projects, and I called my interviewer to reschedule my appointment. I got her voicemail. I should have given her my cell phone. I forget to check the land line voicemail.

She said she could see me at 2:30 on Thursday, so I called back--after 6pm when I got the message--and said 2:30 was fine, I would see her then.

I got up a little earlier than I normally do, dressed and prepared to go to the interview. Then it dawned on me to check the voicemail. Evidently she had called at 8:02am to tell me she had given the 2:30 time slot to someone else. She had a 1:45 appointment and that was it. It was 1:15.

My husband told me to hurry and finish dressing and we would fly...fly down the freeway to the interview (and then run errands after).

We get outside...and our van had a flat tire. I am not making this up. FLAT. TIRE. Freaking out ensued on both our parts. We calmed down and decided to take the other car, but something came loose underneath the front bumper after scraping over a cement parking stop and it drags on the ground when we drive. And it was dragging badly. We had just paid to have the brakes done on the van; there was no money to fix the other car. It was about this time that I noticed that it was 1:30pm, and there was no fucking way we could be 35 miles away in 15 minutes.

I threw up my arms in resignation and headed back into the house. We then had a debate on who was more of a loser, me or him. Me for assuming that the 2:30pm time slot was mine, him for not realizing that the van had a flat tire.

I called the woman I was to interview with to tell her I would not be at the 1:45pm appointment. She had no other slots available for interviews. I thanked her for the opportunity and that was it. I blew it.

We each sat quietly for a while surfing the Internet and contemplating our loserness. Then he found a place where he could get a replacement tire for low, low dollars, and he headed out to take care of that. And get stamps for some mail we had.

I decided I was not going to end the day a loser, and I hand-washed a sink full, FULL of dishes--the DW is out. We just want the landlady to get our rent check before we tell her it's on the fritz. And then I decided to clean the refrigerator. It hadn't been cleaned in a while. The glass shelves come out, but the kitchen is so small, that the door hits the cupboards on the opposite side and won't open all the way. I had a bitch of a time getting everything out and washed and then put back in. Overall, it took me over three hours to do everything. Something sticky had spilled and dripped to the bottom of the fridge, under the fruit and vegetable bins (which was a real Houdini trick to get those out and back in), and lots and lots and lots of cleaner, scrubbing, and judicious use of a Santoku knife.

By the time I was done, I was wet, sore, and just plain pooped. I was going to start on the dining room next, but I was out of steam.

But by G*d, I was a loser with a clean kitchen and refrigerator.

So self-fulfilling prophecy? Subconscious wish to fail? Fear of success? Moderate agoraphobia? Fear that I never feel well enough to get through even a day as a partially employed, work-at-home person? Or E) all of the above.

I've got to be realistic. My health is not that great. My good days when I feel ok are less than the bad days. I probably feel ok three or four days a month. Seriously. I am not good at recognizing my limits, but perhaps my body and/or subconscious do. I don't know if I could have made it to work every day. What kind of employee would I be? A sucky one.

It just sucks to be me. That's supposed to be funny. OK, not funny.

I'm still trying to figure out this "new" body of mine that just doesn't work as well as it used to. Jeesuz I'm tired.

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In response to the commenter (I've got a ticket in as to why I can't reply to comments here on my blog):

Thank you. Your kindness and non-judginess throughout the years have been very sustaining. Hugs back. J.