I watched the last five minutes of Idol last night, just enough to get the (not that surprising, I guess) results. I fast forwarded through the other fifty-five minutes or so, amazed at how many commercials there were. Yikes! The even FASTER way to do it, though, is to read this article, which summarizes it all, short and sweet. Talk about conservation of energy. I think Al Gore would approve.
In other news, I’m finding that lately, I just can’t trust my reaction to things, as I’m hormonal and emotional. I keep getting hit by these HUGE waves of frustration and annoyance, and I can’t tell if they’re legitimate or purely a result of the pregnancy. This week, I literally flipped out on three people in three days, all over stupid, paperwork-y kind of things: A Fed Ex delivery that was two days late with no explanation other than “We just don’t know where it is, sorry,” my phone suddenly incapable of getting emails, and an insurance thing that resulted in us getting billed twice the amount we’d been told (explanation: Whoops! Sorry about that! Oh, and the bill’s in the mail.). With that last one, my husband came home to find me in such a state of fury that he had to get on the phone and do damage control, which was kind of embarrassing. I’m beginning to wonder if I should go live on top of a mountain, or in some other kind of seclusion, until the baby comes. It seems like it might be safer for everyone.
Before I do that, though, I have to tell this story, if only because I KNOW you guys will tell me if I’m overreacting or not. Okay, so earlier this week I had to go buy a car charger for my phone, which keeps dying while I’m out (probably due to the email thing, but that’s another story). Anyway, I’ve been out all day, I’m exhausted, and I just want to run into this place, grab and charger and get out. At first, this seemed like it might actually happen: the salesperson helped me find the right charger, then we proceeded to the register. All good! But then she sits down at her computer, fingers poised over the keyboard, and says, “Name?” I just kind of looked at her. “I’m in a big hurry,” I said, “can I just get this, and skip the other stuff?” She explained that she needed my name and address for their files. Which I thought was kind of weird, but in the interest of time (rapidly dwindling) I gave her my name and address and phone number. “Okay, Sarah, who do you work for?” she asked next, and I felt that little twinge, like my temperature jumped up a couple of degrees. NOT a good sign. “Why do you need to know that?” I asked. “We just do,” she said cheerfully. I told her I was self employed. “Sarah, what do you do?” she asked. Again, I said, “Is this information really necessary?” She just laughed and threw her hands up, like I was being so difficult. “I’m just making conversation, Sarah!” she said. Now my face was getting hot. I could just see my husband having to not only make a call, but maybe come bail me and his unborn child out of jail. “I’m sorry,” I said, “I’m just really in a hurry, I need to go.” She sighed, shook her head, and finally processed my credit card. I was just calming down, about to leave, when she said, “Sarah, it was so nice to meet you! Next time when you come in, we can work on your trust issues!”
Okay, so this last bit put me TOTALLY over the edge. In fact, just writing it out I feel a little flushed. I don’t know if it was the use of my name OR the condescension OR a combination of both, but I literally saw red. It was all I could do to take my charger and leave the store without losing it, although I did do so, because there’s just something about being pregnant and screaming at someone that seems a lot worse than just, well, screaming at someone. But it’s been bothering me ever since. I mean, maybe I’m overreacting? But I still have the whole summer to go! I can’t be like this for all that time. Can I?
Suffice to say, that mountaintop is looking pretty good right now. Maybe I can get a weekly rate, or something?