To recap, I left work early on Friday as a result of (what shall I say here? debilitating? agonizing?) pain.
My plans for attending a craft show (to see my dad's elder sister, who I rarely see) shit the bed.
My plans for hosting a luncheon for my brother-from-an-Indian-mother, shit the bed.
And here I am, it's Monday, and had a full day's activities planned in NYC (after a therapist appt), and these plans, too, have shit the bed.
Waiting to do what will end up being a phone-in session with the therapist, an ironic one, given that my surgical procedure was supposed to or promised to change my pain paradigm, and since it hasn't it's negatively impacted my ability to go in for a therapist appt, to discuss why it cannot be an in person therapist appt.
It's kinda like the Inception of Suckitude actually.
Dropped the husband off at the train, and did a minimum of grocery shopping. Put up my steaks to dry age, got myself in the shower, and hoping I'll compose my thoughts enough to have a productive session with my therapist.
Mood: Pensive. Anxious. Depressed. Bleak.
Happy motherfucking birthday to me.
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