Grumpy

It ain't just for the dwarves-- oh, sorry, vertically challenged-- anymore.

Today I had my doctor's appointment. Nothing serious, just a physical. And it when well. As well as those things can go. But I have a problem. I hate, hate, hate going to the doctor. Really hate it. And I never sleep well the night before an appointment of some sort. I'm always afraid that I'll miss it somehow. Yes, I'm paranoid, but it doesn't mean that it couldn't happen.

That's two strikes right there against a good mood.

So I'm at the doctor. My father insists on taking me and won't leave. He even asks if I want him to go in with me. Yes, I am 29. No, he does not seem to realize this. I fill out forms-- god, how I hate insurance forms and medical forms-- and wait. And wait. And wait some more.

Then I get called in. I'm weighed-- really not happy now-- and poked and prodded and shuffled from room to room. I'm feeling quite like cattle right about now. Then I get to wait some more. Another doctor. Felt up a bit. Wait. Another doctor. Felt up once again. Wait. I hear my name being paged. Turns out it's not for me. I'm surprised because I'm not used to people having the same name as me. It's...on the exotic side, I guess.

And I wait. I'm tired. I'm hungry. I'm missing Buffy! I'm really grumpy. Turns out I get to come back...two other times. For two different procedures. Yay, blood work! Woo, pulmonary function test!

I'm not going to sleep for the next week and I'm going to be a very grumpy girl.