I’m fostering a quiet resentment against this guy at The Grind who’s talking loudly on his cell phone which he has plugged into one of the few outlets in the cafe — dude, this is a neighborhood cafe with wifi, not your personal charging station. I’ll take some pity on him, though, because he’s wearing a Members Only jacket, so perhaps he is entirely clueless on many, many things.
When I had a car, I was a big fan of the horn. Now that I’ve resigned myself to the pedestrian life (in more ways than one), I find horn-honking to be one of the more irritating city phenomena. Especially when it’s at the intersection of Wilson and Lincoln — where could you possibly be going in
this my neighborhood in such a hurry that you need to lay on your horn right there? If you’re in such a rush, go over to Western Avenue, where horn honking is not only welcomed but expected.
Someone needs to stop me from buying more shoes. Is there a shoe-aholic anonymous program? I tried calling Uncle Eddie to tell me to stop last time I found a pair (I’ve bought ELEVEN in the past two weeks), but I knew he was the wrong person to help when he said, “If they are sexy heels, I’m not going to tell you not to buy them.” Still, I need to stop. It’s difficult, though, when they are all so cute and so (relatively) inexpensive…
I’ve had a headache for about 76% of the past nine days. This is, I should clarify, not much fun.
All weekend, my phone hasn’t worked when I’ve been at home. Chatting with Sprint online Saturday AND Sunday, I was informed a tower was down. Today I walked up to Garcia’s for lunch and called tech support, who told me that a tower wasn’t down and never had been down. Rather, my phone (which, as you may recall, was resurrected from its circa-1999 slumber when my BlackBerry was stolen) needed an upgrade. All is well now, though I’m grumpy whenever outsourcing-to-India messes with my stuff.
I am tired. And still depressed. And the psychiatrists aren’t much help — I hate paperwork, red tape, bureaucracy, insurance companies, and having to wait for anything much less the opportunity for someone to judge whether I’m going officially insane or simply need a medication adjustment. The last time this happened, I got fed up with waiting, walked into an ER, and during the course of the triage appointment asked, “What do I have to do to get help, try to kill myself?” which, of course, was taken as a suicide threat and suddenly I was faced with trying to avoid getting myself committed involuntarily the day before Mother’s Day, 2000. I do not wish to repeat this experience.
I’ve been invited to an Orphan’s Thanksgiving celebration in NYC — now I have to mull it over. Honestly? I think J. would be hurt if I was away for the holiday. I’m meeting one of his sisters on his birthday (Nov. 9) and meeting the rest of his family would be the next logical step. So would I be going to NYC for me or to get away from taking the next steps with him? See, this is why I still go to therapy after 13 months.
Now: more coffee. Caffeine helps headaches, right?