2007-03-27 - 11:16 a.m.

I don’t know why I do this…I am a scientist. (that’s what I tell myself at least) But every so often I find myself acting as though I am a mystic. I’ve been having dreams about horrible visits to the vet with my cats for the last week and now I’ve talked myself into believing that my psychic mind is trying to tell me something. It couldn’t just be that I’ve been living in pet panic for the last year due to diabetic comas and death-bed pancreatic malfunctions…and now that everything has been really quite good in pet world lately (knocking like mad on wood) I have time to process that year of pet panic and deal with it. No, no, it couldn’t be that. No, I am convinced that I am having some sort of premonition…that today when I take Bubba to the vet I am going to find out something awful. (I made the appointment for him basically as a check up because last week there was a dash of blood in his stool, then he was fine. And then,last night he howled at the litter box so hmmm…good thing we are going to the doctor today.)

So the pet panic psychic crap will be resolved today when I find out that Diamond is fine…or just suffering from an irritated bowel (he eats EVERYTHING including pounds of grass and whatever he finds on the floor). Then I will say to myself, “see, you aren’t psychic, when will you learn?” And, even with the lesson, I will continue on with the other panic I am dealing with right now. The “Eric is leaving for the weekend and for some reason I am freaking out about it” panic.

When he told me the other day that he was leaving for the weekend, my stomach flipped a few times and I gulped down a lump in my throat the size of an apple. I don’t know why I should react that way, he is always gone. Seriously, this month he has been here eight of 27 days. Hmmm….maybe THAT’S the reason my stomach flipped and I nearly choked on that apple in my throat. Maybe I just simply don’t want him to be gone again quite yet. ??? You think? But no…I talk myself into thinking that maybe my psychic mind is trying to tell me something. Like maybe I need Eric here this weekend because something terrible is going to happen. So now I know that I won’t sleep at all this weekend because I will be waiting for our house to get broken into again. And I’ll be hyper-vigilent about the cats for fear that there will be another coma/car/choking incident that I won’t be able to deal with on my own. And I’ll never quite deal with the fact that I just wanted my husband home this weekend because I’m kind of missing him lately. (it’s okay because next week he has a five day weekend and I’ve basically gotten a promise from him that he will be HERE for the full five days)

Anyway…off to language classes now. Dread dread dread. Fortunately for me, evil company that sent us here and is supposed to foot the bill for my language training is so fucking unorganized that we no longer know anything about anything, including where to send expense reports…so I probably won’t be taking classes after this week since we have no idea where they will get paid for from. Now I can blame evil bastard company for the fact that I can't speak Spanish. It sounds much better when you can blame someone else instead of just admitting that you are completely and inexplicably simply unwilling to learn.


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