Anxiety is always changing around here. Before we started the reno I didn't have much anxiety. Except PMS, of course. My doctor told me PMS was a form of depression and anxiety and that I should be preparing myself for the day when I either suffer from depression on a regular basis or anxiety to such an extreme that I may have to do more than what I am doing to control it. I don't see the depression being a problem, I really don't. But the anxiety? Oh yeah, me and anxiety.....we're tight.
I take my doctor with a grain of salt. She's great but she's a pessimist. I really like her though, she's smart and funny. She's thorough and she listens to me. This is important to me. She listens. When I go in and I tell her I am losing my mind she listens and does whatever I want her to do plus anything else she may deem necessary.
She's a bit of a pill pusher though so I tread lightly. Actually one time I went to see her because I was going on a trip and I was terrified of all the airplanes we were going on. The trip was a week away and I was already losing sleep. I went for the specific purpose of getting drugs. The kind of drugs that keep me from turning all crazy-like on the airplane forcing the pilot to make an emergency landing in the middle of the ocean. Which would induce in me a whole new level of psychosis. Landing in the ocean? Holy crap, can you imagine it? Excuse me while I breathe into a brown paper bag.
My doctor always asks me about my life and how many kids I have now and are there any foster kids and so on and so forth. When I updated her about my life she asked me if there was anything else I wanted. Like, say, valium?
Oh that woman, she is my temptress.
I said no, by the way.
Anyway, the reno or Willacy, as I like to call it, added a level of anxiety to my life that I don't particularly care for. This level of anxiety has introduced me to chronic insomnia. Chronic insomnia brings out in me, an already emotional type human being, a new level of emotion that rears it's ugly head at the strangest of times.
The longer this house is for sale the more my anxiety and I become intimately acquainted. I've been trying to break up with it but I fear it's a bit of a stalker, youknowwhatimean?
I'm doing research into the current stalker laws but...........
Wanna see what my anxiety looks like right now?
It looks like the old roof lying all over the exterior of my house. It looks like dust and dirt and little itty bitty pebbles and bits of tar and bigger bits of tar and it's even hanging in my neighbours tree.
My latest anxiety sounds like this:
BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG! As they replace the old with the new.
What was that? Did you just ask me a question? Well sorry, but I can't hear you. BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG
Light fixtures are falling from the sockets and I hear banging in my medically induced sleep.
Today they are putting 'torch on' on the roof. This involves a blow torch which is just a fancy way of saying fire. My anxiety is mutating by the second.
We just hit 9 months with the house being on the market. Is there a pharmaceutical I can take for that?
The other day the man came down off the roof to take a wee break from all the banging and enjoyed a plate of tater tots with the kids.
When I asked him why he was eating with chopsticks he said he was being sophisticated.
Speaking of sophisticated. Wouldn't it be super sophisticated of me to place in the top three in this contest I am in? I am holding #4 right now but I'm over a hundred votes away from #3. This simply will not do people. No no no. In the interest of saving my sanity I do declare you must go vote for me.
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