Feeling like a NYC UPS man

On the way here, I saw a policeman giving a parking ticket to a UPS truck. And there were several of us gawking and I got to wondering, what the fuck is the NYC UPS man supposed to do? Just where, exactly, would the NYPD like the UPS truck to park when its person is running about with packages? And isn’t part of driving in a city like this one just learning to navigate the giant, double-parked trucks? What the hell choice does the UPS man have?

No choice. None.

So, there is nothing wrong with me. I haven’t talked to the doctor yet – Wes got the message. I may call her tomorrow. But maybe not because I am having a hard time facing this. I wanted to be overweight for some mysterious health reason. I did not want to be told to do some cardio and take some B vitamin and it will all be fine. That’s not at all what she said. That’s my own brain. But how can this be nothing? How can it hurt this much to get out of the bed each morning if it is nothing?

She is going to send me to a neurologist.

What the fuck ever. Truly. I have decided to swing on ahead. It is time to think baby. I wrote a long diatribe about this topic on Monday night after returning from the Cape, where babies were more than a bit on the brain of half of us younger set. I wrote about how scared I am that it is going to rip out Wes’ heart – he wants so badly for it to be a creature we create together. As that is impossible, we will forage on in the usual alternative way, but it will be sort of sad. And I worry that he will have built up such a block about how it isn’t “his,” and then he will not love it and I will be left barefoot and baking bread with a baby on one hip and a chihuahua on the other, all of us crying our eyes out because Wes wants no part of us.

Yeah, I know. I’m just telling you how sick I am.

Today I almost fell out of my own skin trying to get up the nerve to deal with the guy who is putting up the walls and doors for our bedroom. There was a misunderstanding about a certain little part of the project, and the concept of broaching this topic was enough to make me lose it entirely. I refused to kiss Wes goodbye – if he loved me, he would not go to work, but stay and deal with the construction guy for me.

Yeah, I know.

Really I do.