You can’t take it with you

“Spend the afternoon. You can’t take it with you.”
~ Annie Dillard

OK, so in the beginning of February I called the doctor’s office to make an appointment as a new patient for a full physical. Yuck, I know, but it’s got to be done and all that happy crappy. The earliest they could get me in was mid-April, 2 ½ months from the time I called. OK, whatever, I’ll be there.

Last week I got a call that they had to change that appointment for whatever reason, and the soonest they could reschedule for was August 25th, another 4 ½ months from the initial appointment. I bugged. Seriously. They couldn’t get me in with another doctor or even to get blood drawn or anything. This is just a regular family doctor, not exactly a specialist or a voodoo priestess or anything – just a doctor. It’s beyond ridiculous that I would have to wait almost seven months for a simple checkup.

What if I was sick? Or had a tumor (too-mah!) or a suspicious mole or something? What if I needed anti-anxiety meds because I was suffering panic attacks due to not being able to see my doctor?

Health care reform, my ass. I just need a freaking appointment.

So I took Thursday and Friday off last week and spent a long weekend up north with Da Fambly. The highlight, naturally, was hanging out with my nieces, those crazy little Scandinavian princesses. Erika just turned six and Britta is just shy of three, so they’re both young enough to not realize that most of the time I’m winging it and I don’t really know what I’m talking about. Or if they know I’m full of shit, they’re smart enough to not call me on it – either way, I adore those children.

Out of the blue, Erika asked me why I don’t have any kids. I was a little surprised for a moment, but told her that since my brother had two of the most beautiful, intelligent, loving babies in the whole world that I didn’t think I could do any better – so I promised myself to be the best aunt I could be and not worry about being a mom. She seemed to accept the answer. And then she asked for a cookie, so … that was that.

So it looks like I will really graduate in June. Holy crap, right? So I go to the University website to register for commencement, because hell yeah I want to walk after these last couple/few years of busting my ass and banging my head against the wall. And guess where they have commencement exercises available in late June?

Guam, Korea, Mainland Japan, Okinawa and Phoenix, AZ.

OK, so maybe I’ll wait till I get my bachelor’s degree to officially walk. Something tells me that June in Guam (or even Phoenix) isn’t very comfortable.

Dammit.

Yes, those pictures in the last entry were taken by a professional. My aunt is a crazy old woman with disposable cash and too much time on her hands, which I have found to be a dangerous combination. She came up with the idea, she paid for it – all I did was cater to her whims. And for my efforts, I now have a 10×13 portrait of mah dawg hanging in my bedroom.

So yes, it appears that I too am a crazy middle-aged woman who regrets never marrying (not true) or having kids (also not true). It also looks like I will never have a man in my bedroom again (which I will regret, someday).

And now I better look like I am doing some work. I’ve been putting in an hour of overtime every day and hopefully I can log in another four hours or so on Saturday … so I better stop screwing around online before I get busted.

Nose to grindstone and all that.