#$^%ing Tuesdays

You know how I hate Mondays right?  Well, I loathe Tuesdays with every ounce of my being because anything bad that could happen will happen on a Tuesday.  Murphy’s Law is the guiding principle on a (tues)day in the life of Deza.  That’s why I try to move through the day pretending it’s either Monday or Wednesday; if I don’t think Tuesday thoughts, I might make it out unscathed.  This Tuesday I was not so successful.

At FedEx this morning I managed to take a 30 pound box to the head, with the corner of said box missing my right eye by a matter of inches.  I may develop a shiner yet, but if I do it’ll be so pitiful that people will think it’s a makeup malfunction.  Even if I managed to get a black eye everyone who knows me would assume there was a mildly amusing story behind it since Deza isn't the sort of person that gets into fist fights or bar brawls.  The most impressive bruise I’ve had to date was a rather detailed rendition of a tire tread on my thigh, which was refreshing since I actually knew what would have caused that particular contusion when typically I have no clue how the injury occurred.  Normally I put it down to the fact that I’m hilariously uncoordinated and have the unique ability to trip on a line drawn with chalk on the ground.

Radio Silence

I hate Mondays, but I’m sure by now I’ve made that perfectly clear. Today I’ve made an important decision; in order to preserve my sanity, I’m going to work my frustration off. I’m going to stick to my program (Couch to 5k) and make it work. I’m going to be sensible about my diet and simply avoid sugary snacks/drinks while adhering to a single serving on a modestly sized plate. Most importantly I’m going to practice a form of radio-silence and not discuss it on the Facebook page that my husband sees. I’m going to be quite sneaky about it and hide my shape whenever I see my in-laws, although my face and neck are a giveaway because they get more defined as I lose pounds. Why you ask? Well it’s because I’m going to be selfish for once. I want to see his jaw drop when I go to Mexico in February. I’ve never had the body of a model, but I’m going to have the best body I can manage.

The first week of the program started on December 4th and I discovered that I can handle it. Sure I was wiped out for an hour afterwards and that first day I was so tired, but the next day I felt better. I didn’t have any breathing problems (suck it exercise-induced asthma!) and I wasn’t wobbly from working harder than usual. I think I would have been setting myself up for failure had I not been working out 3 times a week on the machines at work. This program is set up to be 3 times a week for 7 weeks, so we’ll see just how well I progress. I’m not afraid to repeat a week if I think I need more time to get used to the jogging before advancing.

Progress stands still

It's been a while dear readers; I haven't had time to write lately.  I plan on trying to get some of my partial posts finished so I can fill everyone in the changes that have taken place.  The largest change so far is the news that my brother John is moving back home in less than 3 weeks due to foreclosure.  At this point we’re all grateful there is enough, albeit barely, room for everyone in my parent’s house.  John and Carol have three children; Kay is 7, Michael is almost 2, and Trevor is 6 months old.  Ashley will be sharing a room with Kay, I am fervently praying that someone will have mercy on me and keep the fights to a minimum (no blood please).  Michael and Trevor were already sharing a room so at least we know there shouldn’t be any real trouble there.  I am being displaced to a much smaller room upstairs and have to downsize my possessions or arrange for off-site storage accordingly.  I had to talk to Alberto about it already because there are a few things I still have of his here in Minnesota that I would have nowhere to store.  The weight bench in particular is a thorny issue since it was a Christmas present, but if it needs to go I guess it needs to go.

Another change is the addition on a second income.  I now work at FedEx Ground between 3 and 7 am Tuesday-Friday.  It's easy enough work, but I wish I could carry mace on my shift.  In a word; creepers.  My co-workers are either good people in need of extra income for whatever reason, or straight creepers.  I think I can handle it through the holidays, which is the point or there simply won't be any presents for Christmas.  I am short about $500 for the waiver filing fees (never again will I buy a @^$#ing Jetta) and if I don't work at FedEx I'll never be able to bring Alberto home.  My carrot on a stick is a pair of roundtrip tickets to Mexico so I can see my husband before my 28th birthday.  I really want to see him again without being on the other side of a glass partition.

Currently our case is stalled while the government retrieves our file from storage. Lance sent me a stern email after I told him I was in contact with Diana in the Senator’s office and she had given me a different status than what the USCIS told him at the infopass.  He said that too many people making inquiries can stall or even stop all progress.  The next day I was told to let Diana keep plugging away with the government because she was getting her information ahead of Lance.  It appears that Lance was suffering from selective hearing when he had the appointment with USCIS; the guy could have said NRC instead of NVC.  Our file is going to be traveling again soon enough, and with all due haste.  We need the visa interview and denial so we can submit the waivers. 

“I got nothing.”

Deza

Ciao

Allergic Allegory

I have known for many years that I suffer from seasonal allergies, so it must have been some desire for suffering that compelled me to get retested this year.  I was last tested in the summer of 2007.  I remember the two weeks prior to that appointment as pure torture since in order test allergic reactions, a person must go 14 days without allergy medication.  Do you know what it’s like to have random people ask you if you are ‘really sick’ or need ‘help’ constantly?  I swear that everyone within a 5 mile radius either thought I had some disease or was on drugs due to my continuously bloodshot eyes.  I’m glad I warned HR and my supervisor ahead of time otherwise they might have staged an intervention.  It’s called seasonal allergies people; I’m not deathly ill so please simmer down.

This morning was the test, and honestly the days before the test were not as bad as I remembered from last time.  Truthfully, I haven’t had a bad allergy season since my darling daughter was born and the results of my test reflected greatly reduced or non-existent reactions.  My allergens include dust mites, mold, some grasses, various farm animals, and evil incarnate.

The one true evil in this world has a name:  Felis Catus, aka Mittens, Milo, Jinx, Garfield, or the domesticated CAT.  They always know me for what I am, an allergy sufferer, and they delight in provoking a reaction.  I avoid the shedding devils at every opportunity, however I cannot escape them.  They have turned many of my poor family members into mere servants, catering to their every want and need.  They have exiled me from many homes as I cannot breathe in the presence of pure evil.  Today I was issued a challenge to face my tormentor with the help of a common steroid inhaler to combat inflammation of the lungs.  My other option is to visit those houses in an anti-histamine fueled haze in which I behave like a doped up stoner.

I believe I am ready for the next confrontation with the enemy.  The battlefield is yet undecided but the day is an often celebrated holiday known as Christmas.  Someone in the family is hosting Christmas, and all but one household harbors at least one slinking dander farm.

Bring it on kitty… I got this.

Excerpts from a Pet's Diary

Ciao