If I fell for you, what would it be like?
Hearts and flowers and bluebirds singing?
Would I know, would I believe,
that I am important to you, that you think of me
that you want me in the darkest of nights and brightest of days.
Would I finally meet your friends, they would meet me,
Would we make plans together, spend afternoons going
nowhere and everywhere, making memories
Laughing at secret jokes,
glowing with love for each other.
Looking forward with hope and excitement
Knowing each day is one we'll start together, and end together.
Would you woo me? Romance me?
Or take me for granted, knowing that I fell for you, and
there is no other.

One of the things I dislike intensely about my job is the assumption that they have some kind of dibs on my off time. I have to attend a stupid hour-long training on sexual harassment. I have been working long enough that this is a topic on which I do not need any more training. It boils down to: don't say anything to another person, especially of the opposite sex, that remotely implies that you notice anything about them that would make them different than yourself. There, I just saved everybody an hour.
In the grand scheme of things I admit than an hour is not much. However, my off time is precisely that, MINE. I have plans, and sometimes I don't have plans on purpose. Since pretending to be a functioning, mature adult at my job takes a lot of energy, I need down time. And it just so happens that I have an appointment that day, that was set 3 months in advance. It's not exactly going to make for a frantic day, but it's a lot for me to do. I'm already tired.
And you know what else? This is the kind of training that could easily be done via a memo, or training document. I got nothing but time during my shift. The Stupid runs rampant through here.

Waiting for the dam to break...

I feel like there's a lot trying to get out, but I'm having some kind of block, or it's an unwillingness to face what's going on up there. The brain, she is a mighty tool, an sometimes she can be a tool. Sometimes a simple thought (to occupy my time) turns into this torturous, circuitous path to the depths and darkness that I know is there, but try to keep locked away. Kind of like an unstable mine, it doesn't benefit anybody to go in there. While what-ifs can be beneficial for planning and avoiding danger, they can also lead to unlikely and negative events in the mind that just drag me down. A little like If You Give a Mouse a Cookie. I think in the end the mouse moves in. I believe when it is thoughts, and not cookies, they call it perseverating.
However, through the perseveration, I am moving forward. Slowly, but I'm moving. I finally made a doctor's appointment to address my shoulder. Hello, shoulder! The pain is bad, the stiffness in my neck makes it hard to turn my head, and the sudden dropping of stuff is ridiculous. I'd like to be able to brush my teeth or write a letter without pain.
I also enrolled in a weight management class with Kaiser. Ten 2-hour sessions. Ugh. I'm not sure how helpful it will be, but you gotta start somewhere. And I suppose I can always stop if it's not helping.
Also found a swim exercise class. I have a couple of questions before I go to a session that I need to call on. Plus it turned cold the last week. Oh, and I have to shave my legs. I don't think anybody else dragging their butts to exercise in a pool at the butt-crack of dawn will care. I can't do it, though. It's not actually the butt-crack of dawn, that class starts at seven and I don't get off work until 7. I could do it on Thursdays, I guess, but that would affect my sleeping time, and then my knitting group, etc. Anyway, dragging my (painful) feet a little bit on that,
My feet are the reason for the swim class. I'm not supposed to exercise on them. Yet, if I lose weight, it's supposed to help. Sometimes my brain hurts. Hey! Full circle.
I had a sudden revelation that I don't want to feel this crappy in my golden years. I don't know how much better I can feel, but it's got to be better than this. I don't want to be a grumpy old lady that snaps at everybody because she's in pain all the time. I just want to be a grumpy old lady.
My grouchy old man cat needs surgery for a tumor, possible sarcoma. I am not happy about that. Well, who would be really? The vet called this afternoon and said is kidney values are a bit high and to start him on kidney food. I know he's senior, and getting up there for a cat, but I'm still not ready to deal with this. He's obnoxious, but I know there will be a giant hole in my life when he goes. Sigh.