Weekend Anxiety

It's going to be one of those days. I feel really weak today, sufficiently weak that I needed help getting dressed. I get days like these. It would be nice if I could ascribe these days to something, perhaps lack of sleep, or the rum and eggnog, or doing too much yesterday. I can't. That's the thing, these days just come along every once in a while. Unfortunately they are often precursors to a change, and not in a good way.

Then there are the other things that are going to make this a difficult day. My truck is in the shop; I'm going to call them in a minute to see if they have figured out what is causing the battery to drain. Since I have no transport, this is, of course, the day I realize I am almost out of catheter supplies. I can call the pharmacy and they will deliver the supplied, but there are a few other things I need and have to pay for, like a new grabby stick and some additional catheter straps, so I wanted to go into the shop.

There's also this internal screaming going on inside my head, telling me I have to get ready for my Christmas party tomorrow. Of course I don't. It's a Christmas Potluck. Kay and Walter are bringing the turkey. I already have a Bean Salad at the ready, plus Cole Slaw fixings in the fridge. I have nothing to worry about, except worry itself. My inner anxiety is showing. I have to make more food.

Last night I made some Mince Tarts. I cheat with these things. I buy the Mince Meat at Safeway, then add a couple of shots of Spice Rum into the mix. The hardest part for me is rolling out the dough, especially with a broken rolling pin. So that's another thing I want to do today, go to Home Outfitters to get a pastry mat and rolling pin. Both of mine have been damaged over the last few days.

So, in summary; I don't have my truck, I'm worried about the repair costs, I'm feeling very weak and worried about decline, I am anxious about my party tomorrow, I want to do some baking and need equipment, and I have a bottle of Spiced Rum sitting in front of me, along with Egg Nog in the fridge. I'm pretty sure things will work out all right, even if I pee in my pants every now and again this weekend.