Bitchfest
I) I am in pain. It's not intense unless I need to use my hands or wrists. Holding the phone or a book? Hands go numb. Holding Leelo's hand tightly enough to prevent him from bolting across a busy parking lot? Numb and painful. Twisting my hands behind my back and then grabbing all five thousand hooks of my bra tightly enough to fasten them? Searing agony.
My fingers look like a tasty red clutch of sausages. If I extend all those fingers simultaneously, they turn white. If I'm not doing anything at all, both hands just hang there and ache. Typing, thankfully, is still okay.
Can't even imagine how debilitating it must be to have a similar yet non-transitory condition like arthritis. This is one pregnancy symptom I'm ready to be rid of.
II) Stupid fucking Iron Gate does not give parents any sort of maternity reprieve from its night classes. We are allowed to miss two classes per year, total, and I already missed one on the night of my birthday. Any classes I can't make due to, for instance, having a one week old child, Seymour gets to go. GAAAAAAH. I told Teacher K straight out that I thought the situation was fucked up. She laughed and said, "Why don't you tell me how you really feel?"
III) Made a special trip to Llave Market after the Iron Gate class, to get more ingredients for the special holiday gifts Iz and I are supposed to finish up tomorrow night, and forgot my fricking wallet. And I was driving Seymour's car instead of mine, so I didn't have the usual five or so dollars stashed in the glove compartment to fall back on, and which would have covered my tab.
You'd think that, since I'm there almost every day, they'd cut me a break. Or you would if you were all on fire from your day of pain and Iron Gate fuckedupedness. Oh well, Holey Foods opens up tomorrow. I'll go there instead and show up those heartless, rule-abiding Llave bastards.
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