stupid, stupid presidents

This morning I woke up all-too-early to the obnoxious morning show on KISS 106.1. I’d set the alarm and hour earlier because I really, really wanted to get up and do my exercise DVD because since summer turned to fall, my exercise regime turned to sleep in late, watch TV in the evening, because it’s rainy and there is no sun. So my fab abs are now flab. I HATE THAT FEELING, but it seems I hate it less at 5 in the morning, cuddled up in my warm bed next to my honey. So when the alarm went off, I nudged at Steve to attend to it, telling him to hit the snooze button while pulling a pillow over my head. Ah silence returned to me. Steve came back to bed and spooned me and I settled in for a 9 minute nap until Jackie and Bender blare from our clock/radio again.

Steve turned the alarm off. He didn’t hit snooze. He turned it off. So I woke up at the exact moment I was to be stepping on my bus. Cue me on the verge of tears, freaking out because I was GOING TO BE LATE! Where are the chill pills when I so desperately need them? I threw on a chunky turtleneck, my lesbian pants and sensible loafers (holy Lord, do I need to go shopping), brushed my hair into a ponytail and raced out the door – to wait. On top of it all the damn buses were running the freaking holiday schedule because my freaking work doesn’t like freaking presidents. So I stood in the freaking rain, freaking out because I was LATE.

Chill. Pill.

When the bus finally came, I sat down and read from my book, The Other Woman, by Jane Green (haha, no, it’s not about me) when the stomach pain wrenched its way through my gut. And that my friends is all I needed to confirm that yes, my freak-out have a cow moments are directly correlative to the kill-me-now torso pain I get.

Great. Now what? Wynn is going in for her stick a hose up the rumpus appointment tomorrow. I’m wondering if it’s time for me to get one of those colo-wha-scopies, maybe to see what exactly happens at the moments when my body and mind are so stressed out that the only thing left for it to do is sic the belly urchins on me.

Luckily it didn’t boil into a full-on episode. Because the second I felt it stirring up I gave myself the “Calm down woman, are you insane?” pep talk and the belly urchins crawled back into their hole to bide their time for the next occurrence of the Rebecca Freak-Out Moment™.