A Bit Down

So I called my mother yesterday, and proved yet again that I can't shut my mouth.

My fingers have been twinging lately, more than usual. It's probably the cold weather doing it, but me being silly me, I freaked out and now Mom is doing the same...because her idiot eldest was stupid enough to tell her.

Of course Mom, being Mom and a worrier due to being, well, Mom, will fuss and fidget because I went and told her I've been worried.

When will I learn to keep my mouth shut? When? When will I learn to stop flapping my gums and telling Mom of my sneaking suspicions that should be kept safe in my foolish cranium?

So now I have to call her tomorrow and warn her off, or I'll have Dad down here wanting to take me away. Which would be fine, but I was planning on sleeping this weekend. Being home I won't be able to, not if Mom has her way.

Someday, dear group of readers, I will learn to suck it up and shut up.

I've been doing all the things I'm supposed to do when it gets cold. Been keeping the hands warm, wearing hand warmers in the dorm and gloves when I go outside for any length of time.

It may sound like panic, and in some part it is, but last year I had much more trouble with my fingers. I don't particularly want to go back there-it wasn't a pleasant experience. If I keep them warm enough, I should hope I won't 'relapse,' 'step back,' or otherwise 'fall backwards into a pit of clowns, rabid wolverines, cobras, and a couple of yaks.' Whatever they're calling the arthritis coming back these days...

Hopefully my rheumatologist doesn't kill me next month when she finds out they've been aching and I haven't called her up. She might poke me in my sore spots (seeing as she knows exactly where they are).

Otherwise, I've been a bit depressed. I hate winter. I don't like seeing it coming on. I wish it would just snow and get done with it already, so we can have spring again.

Besides, we're less than a month from Thanksgiving...and you all know (if you've been reading) how much I LOVE the holidays (about as much as having toothpicks broken in half and stuffed under my fingernails.)

I'm about to ask for permission to bring the laptop again. It worked well last year; kept me from getting into trouble with people that I would rather have eaten by a Sarlacc.

And now for this year's edition of "How To Survive Thanksgiving: The Basics."

Rules for Thanksgiving Dinner Survival:

1. Sidestep/ignore/temporarily go deaf for all questions concerning romantic relationships.

2. Don't look at cousin's baby. It's ugly. Don't dare look.

3. Say that school is going well and snidely comment that I'm graduating in the spring. Stuff it, Grandma.

4. Don't say previous statement to Grandma if I want to live.

5. Ignore all questions involving health.

6. Grandma does not need to know that I have found out in the last three months that I am
A) going to live
B) am going to be pretty well off and
C) have what my mother has and
D) Grandma can't get it by hugging me or anything like that seeing as this syndrome is genetically transferred and I got it through the other side of the family, from MOM'S side. Not through her. Not through Dad.

The Koshaks may be responsible for a lot of the misery in my short and tired existence, but they can't take the blame for this and Grandma isn't sick with it, no matter how much she longs to be.

6E. Don't comfort in her anguish when she figures out she can't get this one, either.

6F. Suggest that she go play with the raccoons and squirrels outside and give herself rabies, thereby giving her something to actually complain about (either foaming at the mouth or a needle in the stomach).

7. Do not get Uncle Greg into political discussion, because I will end up shrugging my shoulders and looking stupid.

8. Run screaming from the room if anyone actually dares suggest making amends with certain bitchy cousins. No frelling way.

9. Don't pay attention to how much or how little I eat, only speak to people who have treated me nicely in the past, ignore the people I hate, ignore the people I dislike, hell, ignore those who don't speak to me first.

10. Keep reminding them how intelligent I am because they've most likely forgotten in their quest to be mean and nasty and just generally their bitchy, nasty selves.

That should do it. Should keep me alive next month when I need it.

Ta,
Bec