Ladies who lunch…

…have nothing to do with this post, really.

I’m upset and I’m frustrated.  In the wake of the trip to Urgent Care for my back, and all the panicking that ensued, my blood pressure was way up.  Mom said, “Get a blood pressure monitor.”

So I did.  I shelled out nearly $60 for this fucking machine that is constantly telling me I’m a fucking ticking timebomb.  Freaks me out every time I put the damn thing on.  It squeezes my arm and it hurts and I get upset and teary-eyed and then the machine says, “Oh wow, your BP is HIGH.”    Gee, ya think?!  You just nearly burst my bicep, do you honestly think I’m going to be all easy-breezy about that shit?

So now I’m all…what do I do now.  I suppose another trip to Urgent Care is in order, since they’re open on weekends.  I can’t exactly tell my boss…hey, I need to take another few hours off AGAIN, because my BP is through the fucking roof.  In the meantime, I’m taking vitamins and Acai pills and CoQ10 or whatever the fuck it’s called.  I’m trying to limit my salt intake (I already use “No Salt” at home).

But what I really think it boils down to is…

All I do is stress out.  I’m stressed right now.  You know why I’m stressed?  I’M BORED.  I got home, I ate some pasta, I did dishes, I cleaned the kitchen a little, I watched Wendy Williams, and now it is barely 7pm and I’m bored.

Hence the blogging.

I could (in theory) work out.  However, I actually went out with some girlfriends yesterday to Day at the Docks.  Which seemed to be part sportfishing expo, and part street fair.  And SO much fun.  There were booths with fishing rods and all sorts of gear, but also hats and jewelry.  There were fish tacos and roasted turkey legs!  And boat rides for $2.  Long story short…I’m sunburned.  Extra-crispy MeredithElaine.  Pair that with the fact that my neck is still not 100% (although, probably a good 90%!)…vigorous movement is not really high on my list of things to do right now.

Plus I’m just cranky and don’t want to do much of anything.  I’m shocked I cleaned the kitchen, quite honestly.

There so much, just…STUFF…in our apartment, that trying to make a dent in it to clean is a daunting task.  My home is a just a place to put stuff.  That’s how I feel about it.  I want decor.  I want carpeting, dammit.  I HATE hardwood floors.  My feet and/or socks are always dirty.  My home is not cozy or inviting.  We have 2/3 of a sectional couch (our ex-housemate took the other 1/3), and we have the 2/3 that don’t fit.  So I can’t relax on my couch at all.  It’s uncomfy.  I want there not to be dust everywhere 2.2 seconds after I dust.  I want pictures on the walls.  I want…

…company.  Maybe.

I’m scared of interaction with people, mostly.  I’m hesitant to go out with friends for dinner or drinks during the week, because all I’m thinking is calories, calories, calories, you ugly fat heifer stop eating why aren’t you home working out… That shit is on repeat in my head about 75-85% of my day.

I also just fear wearing out my welcome with people.  It’s much, much easier for me to just sit at home and be by myself and flip through the channels and watch my craptastic television shows that I love and just not speak to anyone for the 5 or 6 hours from when I leave the office until I crawl into bed.  I want both. I want alone-time and company-time.  I’m just don’t know.   I spend a lot of time alone in the evenings, since that’s usually when Eric is working.  So I just decompress and have “me” time…although “me” time doesn’t really consist of much.  I play WAY too much Yahtzee on my iphone, no lie.

I’m confused and I’m lonely and I’m tired and I’m achy and I just want to cry big huge tears right now.

It’s now 7:47 pm…is that too early to give up the fight and go to sleep?

About meredithelaine

forty-something. jersey girl in texas via california.
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