Friday, September 25, 2009

Train Wreck

OK, so I went to Back to School Night with MonkeySee at the high school. I sat in the cafeteria (and not the Big Gym, as advertised) and listened to the principal's speech, which came after listening to MonkeySee's DoppelGanger's band play (pretty good, actually). Using my trusty cell phone, I took a short video clip of the band playing, and two audio clips. In one of the audio clips, you can distinctly hear me telling MonkeySee to "quit fondling the sucky thing" because he was holding my camelbak, and he had his (grubby) hands on the top of it, where the bitevalve is. Eeew.

I totally adore my son's doppelganger.

I thought about getting closer, but I figured I probably seemed stalkerish enough just taking the video.

After the speech was over, we had a few minutes that the principal suggested we use to chat with the various parent organizations. Instead, we high-tailed it to the main office, so that I could get my login information for the new online student tracking system thing they have. You have to provide ID in order to prove that you have the right to access information about the student. I was kind of irritated about that. I mean, I understand why they do that, and I appreciate it, I do, it's just that whole "Hi, I have a job" thing that makes me a little ticked every time they act like I have all the time in the world during the business day for dicking around with their bullshit. Ooh, crabby, much? Anyway, I was very happy they had caught a clue and had people there for checking ID's and handing out passwords during Back to School night when so many parents are there, anyway.

We then went to each of his classes, in turn, including PE, but not including English or Japanese. The English teacher apparently had better things to do another engagement, and Japanese was last. I know it's mean, but I really didn't care about Japanese. I grabbed the paperwork she was handing out, scribbled her contact information down on it, signed us in and then bolted. I was already tired and hurty, and I just knew that getting out of the parking lot would become a nightmare if I waited until that class was over.

It was self-preservation, damnit.

It's possible that I already knew I was in trouble. I was tired and hurty and more so than at the end of a normal day. While I've "recovered" from my procedure enough to mostly return to my normal life, I still haven't gotten to the point where the end of the day isn't just a little more suck than it should be. I also haven't yet felt well enough to attempt starting my morning at the gym, yet, and I guess I found out that I'm probably not ready for that, either.

Waking up the next morning feeling like a train wreck probably shouldn't have been as much of a surprise as it was. I mean, really, I should have seen it coming after the way I felt the night before. But, really, I have a hard time remembering that I'm not SuperWoman and that, sometimes, I need more rest and recovery than usual. So I was going to work and getting through my days with a minimum of problems, but I was avoiding the stairs and not going to the gym, and I should have been able to figure out that wandering around a high school for two hours was probably not a good idea at the tail end of a normal day. I probably should have foreseen this and taken a half day at work, maybe squeezed in a nap. But I didn't do any of those things, and ended up paying for it by staying home yesterday, feeling like crap.

I still feel mostly like a train wreck, but there's a big meeting today that I need to make, so I'll be going through my routine and getting to that meeting. That may be the entirety of my day, but I guess we'll see how it goes.

In other news, I totally don't understand why my bean plant looks like this in the sun:

And like this in the shade:

What's up with that?

PS: Did you know the Fat Femme Laboratory blog is now live? I'd love to know what you think!

1 comment:

FemmeFairyGodmother said...

It's been 3 months since my hysterectomy & I still get tired pretty easily. It's annoying, at best. I hate that. I hope you're feeling better soon.