( Warning: much whinging and sniveling below.)
Man, this peri-menopausal thing is kicking my ass.
One of my goals for this year was to restore my health so that I could come off all of the medications that I'd been taking. So far, it has gone pretty well but I'm thinking about resuming the use of the bio-identical creams because my PMS symptoms have returned with a ferocity for which I was unprepared and frankly, just the everyday stresses that we all encounter are seemingly insurmountable five days out of every twenty three.
There is so much information out there on how to manage the years of hot flashes, night sweats, heart palpitations and homicidal lunacy but much of it is conflicting and in no book, have I read how to curb the instinct to thrash my husband when he refers to the incessant chatter of the cicadas that surround our house as, "soothing". They are lots of things to describe the cacaphony like maddening, deafening...piercing even; but they are most definitely NOT BLOODY SOOTHING.
Today, we sat in the kitchen and he asked me what was wrong. (Clearly, something is wrong as I am not very good at hiding my emotions.) In the one nanosecond of common sense that has peppered my thoughts for the last couple of days, I told him that I preferred not to discuss anything of import right now because I am a premenstrual, emotional, nutbar, who is unsure of whether or not her current opinions are reasonable or the product of raging hormones. I asked that we table any discussions until next week. I think he agreed but I can't remember because that is another weird PMS side effect right now: lack of information retention. This is problematic because there is so much going on right now.
Like the fact that our master bath shower is non functional. At first, I thought that it would be no big deal to use Liv's bathroom upstairs. Wrong.
The repair was to have begun on February 2nd but the project coordinator, is lazy. He showed up late that Thursday morning, took a look and said he'd be back the following Tuesday because it was a long weekend, blah, blah, hard to coordinate workers, blah, blah, better to get it all done at one time...
Whatever.
Dude showed up on Tuesday the 7th, did forty- five minutes of work and took off. The "builder" (lovely, lovely, Scottish man) showed up late Wednesday morning and worked like a dog all afternoon and the following morning. He was impressive. And then, the project went silent. Nobody came Friday or Saturday or Sunday or today. We called and we text.
"The plumber will be there today."
"When?" I asked.
"I'll text you," he replied.
**Sigh**
We are renters, now. The amount that we pay per fortnight here, at this lovely home near the sea, is nearly equal to the monthly mortgage on our house in the US so it chafes when one of the amenities of the home is out of service for any length of time. We've been waiting for the upstairs window latches to be repaired since November. My first instinct is to get on the phone with the property manager and raise hell but something tells me that an obnoxious, aggressive, approach isn't going to get the shower fixed or the windows done any sooner. So instead, I stew and call the project manager filthy names when there is nobody around to hear me.
Strangely, it makes me feel better.
When I moved, I obviously knew that we would have to find new schools, stylists and doctors. It hasn't been fun. I'm so grateful that the educational situation was easy. My kids are in great schools.
I wasn't so lucky with the whole stylist thing. The first person who did my hair made me look like a leopard on LSD. Not kidding. I've since found another person and later this week, after my fourth visit, I'm hoping that I'll finally look like myself again.
Finally, let's talk about the cost of orthodontics in this country. It is harrowing. Unlike the US, one must pay for the initial consultation ($125...reasonable, I suppose) and then before the quote is issued, one must shell out another $650 for diagnostic X-rays, etc., which is NOT deducted from the treatment cost should one decide to go with that professional. It kind of discourages getting a second and third opinion because who can shell out nearly $2500 trying to find the appropriate orthodontist? So far, we have been told Dylan's mouth is going to cost between $7800 and $12,000 to fix so we are currently investigating creative payment options because what do I really need with both kidneys anyway, right?
So there you have it. I haven't blogged in over a month and when I do, it's a negative, PMS, rant. Did I mention that I'm turning FORTY FUCKING FIVE this week? And, I have a waxing appointment.
As my sister in law says, "I hate everything and everyone".
Except chocolate.
And sparkling wine.
And my mother in law.
2 comments:
Initial thought was not to comment. Keep head down and stay out of trouble. But, I’m off to see my Aunt on Wednesday (my dad’s sister) and she’s already told me where their family emigrated to and I wanted to let you know. It will mean more to you than it does to me; 29 Massey Street
Kawerau.
They moved there in 1956 ‘a real one horse town’ was how she described it. She believes it was originally built to provide housing for the workers at a paper mill.
Anyhow, that’s all I know. I wanted to tell someone who might actually know where it was.
It sounds like you’ve got a lot of stuff going on right now. I’ll let you get on with it.
Oh, and I'm turning forty-fucking-five next month. I feel your pain.
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