Friday, May 25, 2007

In my spare time I'll see about that cure for cancer

Even though we don't know where we're moving yet, I decided I better get started planning 'cause DAMN. We've got a lot on our plates over the next three months. Also, by the time we know where we’re going, we may only have a few weeks to get ready to go...

I don't know if making this list has increased or decreased my anxiety... oh who am I kidding. Of course it increased it. Right now I’m vacillating between feeling so anxious I want to cry and avoiding my thoughts with as much TV as humanly possible. Oh, and lots of trigonometry. All my kids seem to be doing trig right now. Which is good, since I love trig and anything (except worrying) seems like a giant hassle right now.

So here's my plan which will very quickly become completely fictitious, I'm sure:

Week of May 28 (next week) – Still working

  • Friend is visiting from out of town.
Week of June 4 – Last full week of work
  • Fly to east coast to look at last job offer.
Week of June 11 – Decide where to live and start planning move!
  • Last few hours of work.
  • Get complimentary 5,000 mile tune up on new car. (yes, I've driven 5,000 miles since March 1st. Feel free to blame all the hurricanes this on me this fall.)
  • Interview & hire whatever moving company isn't completely booked.
Week of June 18 – Planning
  • Celebrate 6th wedding anniversary (use gift certificate to Chez Panisse)
  • Get husband’s car cleaned, repaired & tuned up.
  • Plan upcoming vacation & buy tickets.
Week of June 25 – Planning
  • Sell husband’s car. (Anyone want a '99 Corolla with a couple dents?)
  • Look for new apartment online. Call and make appointments for next week.
  • Shop for husband's birthday gifts.
Week of July 2 – Visit new town
  • Find an apartment with 6 month lease.
Week of July 9 – Planning
  • Bake cake & celebrate husband’s birthday.
  • Sell furniture we’re not taking with us.
  • Get boxes from moving company.
  • Give notice on current apartment. (good-bye crap shack!)
Week of July 16 – Vacation (don’t know where yet)
  • have fun & relax. (ha!)
Week of July 23 – Packing
  • Throw (and maybe attend) going away party.
  • Donate and throw away as much as possible.
Week of July 30 – Packing
  • Change utilities, addresses, subscriptions, & insurance policies.
Week of August 6 – Move
  • Clean out apartment. Get security deposit back.
Week of August 13 – Drive across country
  • Stop at parents’ and friends’ houses on the way. (Spend entirety of signing bonus on $4/gallon gas)
Week of August 20 – Start new life
  • Find part-time job, therapists, fitness center, doctors, some friends, a baby and a house.
  • Live happily ever after.

Friday, May 18, 2007

Caution: I bite.

I haven’t been ignoring this blog. I’ve been busy. And mad. Very very mad.

Why mad? Anger is my native tongue. Angry parents raised me so it’s the emotion I’m the most comfortable with. Sad? Just wait a few minutes and it turns to anger. Tired? Not for long… Scared = anger too. No matter what emotion a situation begets, it inevitably morphs into anger. Actually, more than anger… I feel pure, unadulterated meanness. Take the last week for example:
  • Friday: When I come home, there’s a note on our door. They’re selling our apartment building and are having an open house for realtors the next day. Great. Now I’ve got strangers traipsing through my house while I’m at work. Jerks. I hate ‘em all. I leave a strongly worded note on our door warning them not to let our cat out.
  • Saturday: I normally don’t work on Saturdays, but today, in preparation for an upcoming trip, I’ve scheduled three clients. Even though I know I’ve got the next three days off, I’m cranky and pissed off. Besides, when I get home I have to pack, a task I hate. I call a friend to complain.
  • Sunday: I fly to the east coast to meet my husband where he’s been at a conference all week. He’s been offered a job there and we’re supposed to spend the next two days getting wined and dined and showed around by realtors. Of course, the fact that this is a free trip is not enough to make me ignore the incredible inconvenience and pain that is air travel. I resent every minute of it. By the time I land it’s too late to get dinner at the hotel. I’m ready to murder someone until my husband takes me out for late-night sushi. It’s pretty good. Can’t complain about good sushi. Still, the ikura tasted a little different… maybe I’ll get food poisoning and die. Grrr.
  • Monday (morning): Why. Must. I. Get. Up? Jet. Lag. Bites. The horror.
  • Monday (later): I don’t like the first few houses the realtor shows us. Finally, there’s a few I do like but they’ll be off the market by the time we’re ready to buy. I become certain we’ll never find a good house. They’ll only be cruddy, dirty houses that need a lot of work. We’ll be too lazy or poor to remodel so we’ll be the ugly house on the block. My life will suck. That night we have dinner with some of my husband’s colleagues. They talk too much so they must suck too.
  • Tuesday: I have lunch with the daughter of my parents’ best friends. I’ve known her for decades but today, I’m certain she’s judging me. I feel awkward and fat and obviously crazy. This is all her fault. Bitch.
  • Wednesday: It is early in the morning AND I’m back on a plane. I’m so mad at the world I’m almost homicidal. The man in the seat in front of me is kissing his wife, repeatedly. They keep talking about how much fun they’re going to have on their vacation to San Francisco. PDA and visible happiness. How DARE he. I start fantasizing about punching him in the head. Hard. I want to do it so badly I worry I wouldn't be able to stop myself.
  • Thursday: Halfway through my appointment with my psychiatrist, he asks me if I’m excited to be moving. Excited? EXCITED? What!!?? He can’t be serious. Why doesn’t he want to hear how I REALLY feel about this whole process? I spend all day, every day, telling everyone how "excited" I am about all our upcoming changes, only talking about the bright side of things. At the same time, my head is filling up with all these worries, regrets and disappointments about the future. When I talk to him, I want to express how I really feel - not just repeat the platitudes I tell my parents, my friends, my colleagues, and random real estate agents. I leave the appointment early, in a serious huff.
  • Today, Friday: My husband learns that he’s not going to be offered the job in southern CA. Fine. Whatever. Wasn’t sure we wanted to move there anyway. Still, when we find out who they’re offering the job to… I'm pissed. It’s the same chick who’s beat out my husband for two other jobs. I ask my husband if we can have her killed. He thinks I’m kidding but I’m just wondering how we could avoid being caught.

- - - - - - - - -

What’s really going on? I am scared and sad to be moving. I've worked hard to make the life I have right now and I don't look forward to starting all over from scratch. In the 11 years that my husband and I have been together, we will have moved to six different towns and seven different apartments. Maybe when we know where we’re moving I can plan and get excited. Right now, I’ll just get angry.

Saturday, May 12, 2007

Anyone seen my honorary phd?


Ok. So. Every time I make this assertion, my husband declares that I’m crazier than we previously thought. But now, after some… experiments… I’m certain.

At least one psychoactive drug cures lactose intolerance. CURES.

Here are the facts:
  • Age 22-27: I become increasingly lactose intolerant. Every time I eat ice cream… bad things happen.
  • Age 28-31: I take Lithium, Effexor, Wellbutrin, Seroquel, Ambien on a regular basis. I frequently crave ice cream and eat with no adverse results.
  • Age 31-32: I taper off all medications. I continue to eat ice cream. Each time I do, my intestines decide they need to leave my body ASAP.
Thus, I present to you my earth-shattering medical discovery. Alert the media and whoever gives out those Nobel thingies.

Saturday, May 05, 2007

Maybe I should just invest in some earplugs

You see… we have this annoying neighbor. I fantasize daily about writing an anonymous note, creeping over under cover of night and leaving it on her door. The problem is, I can never decide what kind of letter to write. It’s becoming a way for me to gauge how ill-tempered I am at any give time… like an anger litmus test. The more irritable I am, the meaner this fantasy letter gets. I start obsessing about the most effective wording, the right turn of phrase that will put her in her place. Here’s today’s versions:

  • Angry (7am):
What the hell is wrong with you? Why are you so loud? Were you raised in a barn? When you talk on your balcony we can hear EVERY WORD you say – you’re only standing five feet from our living room window, bitch!

Also, I think all the drugs you’re taking have completely destroyed your hearing because you seem to think you need to scream into your cell phone. How do I know you’re taking drug? Um, everyone knows! Since you don’t seem to care about privacy, we’ve all overheard your recent fall off the wagon and visit from the police. Yesterday, we all listened to your ex bang on your door while yelling: “Sue, wake up! You can’t do this to your little girl. If you keep this up, you’re never going to see her again. When you sober up, you better get your shit together!” Nice. Really nice.

How can you even afford your apartment anyway? My husband and I have five college degrees between us and you seem like an uneducated loser! We pay A LOT of rent so we don’t have to live with garbage like you. Thanks for making us feel like white trash every time we come home.

Oh, and by the way, normal people are usually sleeping at 6:30am. I know you have a little kid, but there is this amazing thing called a door. Close it!

Idiot.


  • WASP-y (11am):
Dear Neighbor:

I’m not sure if you’re aware, but we’ve been disturbed lately by the noise coming from your apartment. When you’re talking on your balcony, the sound of your voice bounces off the two buildings and is amplified. Because our two buildings are quite close together it sounds as if you are standing in our living room. Naturally, during the day, we understand that you and your daughter have every right to use your balcony. However, if you could keep your voice down at night and early in the morning, we’d appreciate it.

Finally, we have all noticed that you have been going through some substance abuse problems lately. I’m sure you’d appreciate some privacy as you deal with these issues. We would appreciate it if you used some discretion and refrained from exposing your neighbors to this kind of negative influence.

Sincerely, a concerned neighbor.


  • Friendly (3pm):
Dear Sue,

My name is Juniper and my husband and I live in the apartment directly across from your balcony. (We own the little grey cat who’s always sitting in the window!) I’ve noticed you and your little girl moved a few months ago and I haven’t had the opportunity to introduce myself.

We happen to overhear your conversations quite a bit and I noticed that you’ve been having a hard time lately. If you ever want to go to a meeting together, just let me know.

Take care,


  • Scared-y: (one that I’m actually going to send)
-- nothing --