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Mrs. E
Mr. & Mrs. E
Jellydog
A Case of the Mondays
Don’t get all uppity with me, people with jobs. I’m perfectly entitled to have a case of the Mondays and spend the day moping around feeling sorry for myself.
Mondays are especially lame since that’s the day I file my weekly unemployment claim, so it’s a nice reminder that I’m still a loser. I’m getting better at not beating myself up that I can’t find work. Particularly since my dad told me recently that he watched a story on the national news that said my state has the second highest unemployment rate in the country, second only to Michigan. The “official” unemployment rate here is 12.2%, but that only includes people currently receiving benefits, not those whose benefits have run out, or who don’t qualify, or who don’t know that they’re entitled to benefits. This story said the real unemployment rate in my county specifically was close to 20%.
Awesome.
I haven’t even felt like blogging, and that’s when I know for sure that I’m out of sorts. Well, honestly, there’s nothing to blog about. I get up, tweet, facebook, look for work, eat, exercise, read smutty Twilight fan fiction, make dinner, hang out with the hubby, do dishes, watch TV, go to bed, repeat. It’s not that I’m unhappy. I’m just… purposeless.
I mark the passage of time not in calendar months, but by my cycle. (Seriously, how the hell is it April already?) We’re now in our third month of trying and I’m currently two days late. But I was late the first month of trying, too, so I’ve learned not to get too excited. Fertility Friend is again giving me a high score on the early pregnancy monitor, but I’ve learned not to get too excited about that, either.
So I’m just sitting here tired, supercranky, bloated, with sore boobs, waiting to pee on another stick tomorrow. Even though I peed on one yesterday, and today, and they were both negative. I don’t care if they tell you to wait 48 hours to re-test after a negative. They’re my 50 cent tests and I’ll do what I want. I sure don’t feel pregnant. They say you get all emotional, and unless emotional means exceptionally irritable, I’m not pregnant, just expecting the mother of all periods.
In fact, on Saturday, the day Aunt Flo was expected, I was so sure of my notpregnantness I had a few drinks at our little BBQ get-together. I’m not stressing it though – lots of women have a few drinks before they realize they’re pregnant and the world doesn’t end. My friend had an entire weekend of drunken Las Vegas debauchery before she knew she was pregnant, and her son seems fine:
Yes, his mother is a child welfare worker, I’m a former child welfare worker, and we let him put a plastic bag on his head. Also, he was dancing to Back That Azz Up.
PS. My apologies to any facebook friends who saw my status update about the BBQ on Saturday and thought this blog was going to be an interesting child welfare story about dumbass parents. I decided there are some lines even I can’t cross in a blog, and detailed stories about clients is one of them. This is because I am totally saving all these stories for my book I don’t want to get sued it’s rude and inappropriate.
My mom didn’t know she was pregnant with me before she went out and had a New Years Eve to remember with the man that would become my Godfather. He specialized in moonshine.
I don’t know how much she had, all I know is she had the mother of all hangovers, plus morning sickness, not knowing it was both, at the same time.
I’m a fan of the theory that one little mistake isn’t going to cause the world to end… I’m hopeful that your irritability is pregnancy related, though… because I know how much you want to be..
I’m sure you’ll find purpose soon…
Just wanted to say thanks again for the food and the company at said child endangering BBQ. Both ours and *potentially* yours… =]
http://www.splitreason.com/Product_Images/effda782f928-xl.jpg
You’re a geek, so I thought you’d appreciate that. Plus its dual purpose. You can use it to further your attempts… or should you have success, wear it claiming victory.
Also, If you want to talk Caprica, I’m now able!
Um, for the life of me, I thought that it said *UN*locked… but I guess it was because I was also looking at this one.
http://www.splitreason.com/product/622
Sorry, my bad, nevermind.
Bethany: Thanks
Well, it didn’t work out this time around… so I guess that means my drinks were enjoyed guilt-free 
T: You’re welcome! My husband IS the grillmaster. I say we do that many more times this year.
oh, and I think I need to buy both of those things. Each is funny in its own way
I know exactly what you mean about a routine and going through the same motions day after day. Doesn’t help with writing awesome blogs!
Allison, tell me about it. I think my next post is going to be quite twitter-centric. If I can get my ass off twitter long enough to write it.
I need help. Or a life.
I swear I am going to do a post one day that is nothing more than my last 30 tweets strung together. Just to see…and yes, jerrad IS the grill master and I sure miss those Sundays..porn and meat.
Wait wait wait… meat, AND pron? Cathy my friend, have you been holding out on us? =]
T, don’t get too excited. Allison’s using the term “porn” loosely
It means his Playboys. Oh, and probably his Girls Gone Wild video. Which I don’t count as porn. I count that as dumb, drunk college girls pretending they like to make out with their friends for their 15 minutes of fame…
I don’t think I had the GGW back then (although I do recall watching the Paris Hilton video on the projector). Second, girls don’t have to pretend they like making out with other girls. They genuinely like it. All of them. It’s part of their DNA. Third, GGW is totally porn. All the boob flashing is just filler around the meaty core.
Well, that’s true. In fact, the only reason we even have slumber parties is so we can have pillow fights and make out.