I go back to work in ... what is it ... just over a week now. The countdown has begun in earnest. There is still too much to do before I go back. Sheer panic is setting in.
I have to reserve my parking spot in our wonderful downtown core. I have an issue with the concept of paying through the nose to reserve a chunk of gravel downtown, but that's what you've got to do when you live in suburbia and the bus system to the downtown core is ... less than ideal. So I must pay the evil parking company a portion of my hard earned money, so that I can work ... to earn my hard earned money.
I have to buy shoes. Or fix my old ones. I'm not sure which option will be best and/or more economical. I'll look into that later.
I have to get my hair cut. The situation is becoming desperate.
I have picked up one of the two extra carseats that we will require. (I got it at most-evil Walmart. HAHAHAHAHA! Evil laughter doesn't translate well on-line.)
I have purchased some work clothes. Not from Walmart. Not even I could bring myself to commit such an offence just to save a couple of bucks. No, no. I went to Winners for that particular shopping expedition. Good deals. But everything I put on still makes me look pregnant.
I still need to buy a few more work clothes, just so I don't end up in the same pair of pants all week long. I mean, what if I spill something? I'm not known for my grace, y'know.
I took J to the doctor yesterday. He weighed in at 19 pounds, and is back in the charts for weight. Though on the very low end. While fully clothed, and with a full diaper and a tummy full of milk. Apparently, though, he is not on the charts for height. What they imagine I can do to somehow make him taller is beyond me. I could put him on a teeny-weeny little rack, I suppose, but I suspect someone would phone child services.
He's short. Live with it.
I have to get J's bloodwork redone, just to check on his thyroid and iron levels and make sure they are improving.
I have to get stuff sorted out with childcare. Nothing too major, but I just have to take some stuff over to get him nicely settled in.
I have to schedule a play date with Memaw, and coffee dates with a couple of friends. And I have to get into an old work place to see folks once more.
Note to self: Pick up cat food.
I know there is more. I can't think what it is now.
I have to study, and get my midterm ready for submission.
I hate my midterm.
This week, I discovered that I do not leave the confines of my house enough. Apparently, an old friend has lived in my community for over a year. Not just in my community, but on my block. On my street. Four houses away. And I found out last night when I ran into another old friend and she told me. I felt ashamed of myself for not realizing this sooner. I'll have to get over and see her.
If I ever leave the house, bound for someplace other than work, studies, or a soothing car ride for J. Which habit is incidentally draining my bank account; gas is too costly for J to insist on evening car rides any longer. But he does, and we must comply. J doesn't care about our finances.
I have to get out more. Y'know. In my spare time.