Actual Numbers Are Irrelevant

Do you remember that scene from When Harry Met Sally?  No, not that scene, the other one, the scene where Meg Ryan is having a fit.  She announces, “And I’m going to be forty!”

Harry stares at her and then asks, “When?”

Sally: “Someday.”

Harry: “In eight years.”

I do that sometimes too.  I let things go from medium to exponentially huge in a hurry.  It has yet to get to the point where I cry over haircuts, but I get overwhelmed sometimes.  In my head, when my jeans get tight, I’ll decide it’s because I’ve gained 547 pounds.  Actual numbers become irrelevant, and all logic is moot.  I know I’m prone to doing this, so usually I’ll stay quiet about how stressful things are in my imaginary land.  The trick is that lately things have been stressful in real life too, and I haven’t quite known what to do with that.

The good news: We’ve found a house.  Better still, there is not a single swatch of orange wallpaper anywhere.  Yes, we were getting to that point where we’d bid on almost anything to avoid being homeless.  However, we really like this house.

The not-so-good news: I have the flu.  I probably picked it up at the hospital or at school last week.  I’m trying to stay far away from my kids and especially their food, but they’ll probably catch it regardless.

The even worse news: Rather than getting a sick note from my doctor, I dropped all my classes.  (Technically, they’re co-requisites, so dropping half of them wasn’t an option.)  I have no reasonable explanation for this, only the gut instinct that I was headed down the wrong path.  I enjoy the academic part, so I’m thinking about other paths that utilize the same pre-requisites, but also about degrees that can be obtained at my own pace, where there aren’t nine million co-requisites.  In truth, if it’s really just about finding a stable job with insurance and benefits, then I don’t necessarily need another degree for that.

On the negative side, I’m somewhat apprehensive of any decisions made while feverish and snotting green.  Even on small things, I’m really not great at making decisions.  My husband has always made fun of the fact that it takes me ten minutes to order a drink.  “Christy, you know it’s the first thing they’re going to ask because it’s ALWAYS the first thing they ask.”  I like to think I’ve gotten better at decision making, but in reality, I’ve only gotten quicker because my indecisiveness is annoying.

“Waiter, I’ll begin with a house salad, but I don’t want the regular dressing. I’ll have the balsamic vinegar and oil, but on the side. And then the salmon with the mustard sauce, but I want the mustard sauce on the side.” Sally is clearly much better than I am at ordering in restaurants, although she is a little annoying in her own regard.  (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Random Questions of the Day:

What do women fake, besides orgasms?  What do men fake?

Do you find your current job/life path fulfilling?  Stressful?  How about those of you in more creative fields?