Darn Murphy Strikes Again!

Murphy's Law: Normally, I don't want to leave the house but can. Today, I want to leave and I can't. I am a person that likes to stay home. Not really this home but you know what I mean. I figured out it is because I am incapable of small talk. Really, I am. You know this if you have spent longer than three minutes with me. I am teased a lot about not leaving my house but yesterday was so beautiful that I took Gia to the park and saw some neighbors I don't see very often (that's what happens when you don't go outside). Gia had a blast and played with another little girl whose mom has the pleasure of also raising a teenager and a two year old. It would figure then, that when I got home from the park and after I made dinner, that when I put Gia in her high chair, she was on fire. I took her temperature and she had 102.5. So it would also figure that on the nicest day of the year so far, I am stuck inside the house. We haven't had a sick kid here, I don't think, since January and now, of all times, sickness strikes. Darn, Murphy!

Monday, I did Zumba that I found on YouTube and was able to do about 20 minutes in the morning before Gia needed something and the phone rang and Gia needed something and then I gave up trying to fit more in. Instead, with motivation I didn't know I had, I walked on the treadmill for 30 minutes while watching TV. I was really excited that I started the week off exercising three times and planned on giving it a try with doing something every day. I had planned on the treadmill or Zumba after I put Gia to bed but by the time she finally fell asleep, I was afraid to risk waking her up since she was sick. I planned to do Zumba again this morning but like I said before, I can only do it in the kitchen and while I know they are not looking into my kitchen, my neighbors have a few guys working on their house and I look ridiculous doing it. Besides, having a sick baby makes it hard to do much of anything. I think Murphy has something against me losing weight. First the mice, now the men...throw in a few sick kids and the motivation is quickly taking a nosedive.

This isn't Murphy's Law, really but is still under the category of "Doesn't it figure?" I went to the eye doctor and even with insurance (good insurance), it still cost me $300. What is a convenience fee for contact fitting? He handed me the contacts and I put them in. Shouldn't that mean that the $96 it cost me should go to me? I did all the work. Silly me, I thought it would cost me the most, $150...those hidden costs...they get you every time. I really liked the doctor, though and the office staff. You can tell that they really care about their patients. I declined the extra tests and pictures of the eye that might detect other things going on in your body. They weren't covered by the insurance and it doesn't really go along with the "head in the sand" mentality that I live by. It felt good saying no. Part of the contact fee was a cornea test that I had to have because I wear contacts. Like before (10yrs before since that was how long I had waited), the new contacts feel weird and I don't like it. Another reason that I don't like change is that even the ones that are supposed to be good, aren't always that way. I should have been able to see better and that was not the case. I got a lecture about 1-800-CONTACTS. I know it's not the smartest thing I have ever done (I had gotten contacts from them for the last 10 or more years without going back to the eye doctor)  but it sure was convenient for someone like me who hates going to the doctor. As I sat in the chair sweating bullets, afraid he was going to tell me I was going blind, it occurred to me that I really could be one of those little old ladies that shuns all doctors. It was ridiculous to be that stressed out and afraid at the eye doctor but that is a direct result of the last decade with the first and last year being the worst. I am not going blind but the doctor knew my life story in the first five minutes of talking to him. I told you...incapable of small talk. Why do I feel like if I tell all of the doctors or dentists or anyone in the medical profession all that I have going on, they will look at me and tell me that I have WAY too much on my plate so I can't possibly have anything added and that I am fine so I can go about my merry way and try and stay sane? Why doesn't that work?