the thin line between optimism and delusion…

The cicadas are in full force.  Mama told me last night that the cry of the cicada scares the roaches.  We’ve had a lot of rain recently.  And guess what?  A roach got into my room last night.  A FLYING roach.  Honestly, I’m not sure I can type the following words. 

He landed on my arm when I was trying to go to sleep.  A roach.  Landed on me.  While I was laying in my bed.  I might die.  I’m at least seven years older this morning than I was last night. 

This roach wasn’t doing so hot, which is probably why he fell on me.  He was obviously dying, and the whole flying thing was becoming difficult.  But that didn’t keep him from totally ruining my night and causing me sincere heart failure.  Obviously, once I was able to make sure it was dead (it hid from me for a while, but I found him and took him out with chemical warfare), and calm down, I had to sleep on the other side of the bed because I was so upset with what had happened on that side.  I tried to go to sleep with the lights on, because I couldn’t bear to turn them off.  Roaches don’t like light.  I read my book for a very long time and tried to find a happy place in my imagination. 

When I woke up this morning, I was still rather upset about the situation, but was ready to move on with my life.  As I was putting on my mascara, I noticed something funny about my eye.  My eye ball, under my top left eye lid, is blood red.  I had my second heart attack in 12 hours, ran downstairs to show natalie, and called Mama.  Natalie supported my assumption that I was probably dying, and Kate told me that I probably popped a blood vessel and would live. 

I called the eye doctor, and they told me that I did pop a blood vessel, and that I could come in to have someone look at it if it would make me feel better, but that there was nothing they could do about it.  They also told me that it would get worse before it got better, and would probably look much worse tomorrow.  The good thing is that it will go away on it’s own in TEN TO TWELVE DAYS.  Are you serious? 

Right now you can’t see it unless I move my eye a specific way and point it out to you, my eye lid is covering it up completely.  But I am convinced I can feel it moving down my eye ball.  And every time I do look at it, I’m horrified that it looks ten times worse than I thought it did.  If I wake up in the morning and look like one of the ghouls from Thriller on my hi def television, I’m not leaving the house. 

In other news, today is my one year anniversary with my law firm.  Hooray.  Sarah says it feels like I’ve been here a lot longer than that.  I can’t believe it’s been a whole year.  It is amazing how fast a year can go by!  I guess I just have a really awesome job. 

Speaking of awesome jobs, one of my girl friend’s coworker is out of town, so she has been doing some of his work.  To do his job involves using his computer.  In order to access his computer, she has to use his password.  His password, for EVERYTHING on his computer, is Boobies.  He thinks this is hilarious, to the point he could barely get it out of his mouth because of his giggle fit.  He’s married and has children and is entirely too old to get the giggles when he tells people his computer password.  I’m not saying the word boobies isn’t funny, because, it can be.  But when you work in corporate america, and you go out of town for vacation, and you know your female coworker is going to be using your password all week, change it from boobies.  Better yet, keep that kind of password on your home computer.  I can’t even repeat some of the other off color remarks made by her other coworkers, mostly having to do with whether their desk can withstand their assistant’s weight.  Thank god for corporate sexual harassment training!

In addition to the roach, and the eye ball problem, the humidity when I left my house this morning was 97%, which is impressive. 

I am sorry for the negative tone and high gross out factor of this post.  I am slowly recovering from my traumatic experiences.  Now I just need to stop looking in the mirror.  It is making me kind of ill.