Negative Nelly

Hi, I'm Negative Nelly. Cousin of Grumpy Gus.

Seriously.

So I'm no Pollyanna (clearly) but I generally am patient with strangers. I get a little kick out of friendly cashiers and waiters, and when speaking to people like telephone surveyors or insurance representatives, I like to overcompensate for all the folks that treat them crappily. But the last few days, I've been a total beyatch.

It might be because I'm sick for like, the third time in the last two months. Or because heartburn plagues me, and even made me throw up the other night, and I can no longer eat the spicy foods I enjoy and I have to slow down and chewwww my food. Or because the cat was vomiting last night, and managed to sandwich in a ridiculously stinky crap in between the vomitting and howling. (I think Max is somehow fetally communicating to her so she can train us for his impending arrival.) Or because dragging around an extra 20 pounds or so is a little tiring, or because I keep getting dizzy spells even when I'm sitting down.

But yesterday I finally spoke with the woman at Mercy who is in charge of Childbirth Ed classes-- I'd sent my registration in months ago and had never heard back from her about registering for classes. So I called her, and despite the fact that someone from Mercy received my registration because they called me to verify info on it, she never received it. Then when I tried to call her this morning on the direct # she gave me, the woman who answered could not seem to put me through to the lady's voice mail. I just kept ringing back to the telephonally impaired woman, who kept blissfully answering "hello?" as my low blood pressure began to rise. I finally managed to leave a message and stomped upstairs to spread my joy to Scott. "Those jerks at Mercy are a bunch of Schmorons," I declared, merging our favorite words to describe annoying strangers-- Schmohawk, derived from the fabulous "Curb your Enthusiasm," and "morons," which is Scott's favorite word to use when he gets the occasional burst of road rage. Combined with another word that starts with an "f."

Then I went to the grocery store because I'm sick and I need peanut butter. As I gazed at the shopping cart blocking me from unloading my heavy basket onto the counter, my blood began to boil. I began thinking some very nasty thoughts about the sweet-faced elderly woman ahead of me, purchasing perky wreaths. Except it wasn't even her cart. Whoops.

Normally this stuff wouldn't bother me. I generally save my aggression for those closest to me. And I guess I did this time, too, because Scott wasn't all too impressed with my outburst.

So. I wanted to make a little gratitude list to try and counterbalance my unfounded rage with some cheery shit:

~ I got some sprouted grain english muffins at the grocery store today.(it really all comes back to food, doesn't it?)
~ The cat no longer seems to smell bad and is curled up next to me.
~ I have not yet experienced hemorrhoids or constipation.
~ There should be a disc of CSI, Season 8 arriving in the mail soon.
~ There's a little Snuggle Puppy twirling around in my belly.
~ Scott made me French Toast last night for dinner.
~ We had a nice, mellow Thanksgiving.
~ Alice Hoffman books.

There's plenty of other stuff, like being generally healthy and having a loving, supportive family and a sweet home and good friends, too. But you wouldn't want me to get too Pollyanna-ish, would you?!?