My own, private, fresh hell

In an attempt to complicate my life, I decided to vomit all night long the night before a mid-term. So, because I was held up by abdominal pain, I could not attend class. I e-mailed the professor that night at 4am when I realized I could not heave myself up out of the toilet for long to let her know that I would be absent. I plopped myself back into bed (I repeated this action several times) and then finally fell asleep around 8am. I slept until 5ish, and then got up to walk the dogs, check e-mail and the like. I rechecked the syllabus that had my prof's e-mail address on it, and it says, on page three (a page I didn't read) that "Make-up tests will only be issued if the student present's a doctor's note explaining his or her absence."

Shit.

Lemme 'splain something. When your gut contracts every five minutes, it's kind of difficult to sit for too long. Also, what would a doctor tell me? "Yeah, it appears that you are in fact evacuating your bowels. That should clear up soon-ish."

So, I did what any good girl does. I tried to call a doctor to make an appointment to get a note, and when that didn't work, I called my mommy. My mommy called my daddy who left a message with my professor verifying that I had in fact been sick all night, couldn't get a doctor's appointment, and to call him at his office if she needs anything else. My very understanding professor made an exception for me since she was out of town, and is allowing me to take a make-up. Oy.

I wasn't 100% today, but I still went to school because I didn't want to miss any more classes. During my break, I went to go apply for a new social security card because my name has changed again since the wedding.

Okay, so I have eaten toast and apple juice in the last 24 hours, I am dizzy and still a little woozy, oh, AND I am PMS-ing. I wait for an hour while two people behind me talk loudly about Cable Modem versus DSL. Then, their conversation shifts to which ringtones this guy should have. Seriously. So, he goes through all the ringtones to ask his neighbor which she likes best. These were two people in their late thirties. Awesome. Then, a pre-teen girl gets on the annoying phone bandwagon and starts playing an MP3 file on speakerphone.

I was almost ready to leave when they call my number. The woman at the front takes one look at my application and says, well, normally you can go to any office, but since you live in Brooklyn, you HAVE to go to this office on Fulton.

On the days I am in Brooklyn, I work 9-5. The only times I have available to run errands during the day are Wednesday and Thursday when I am in Long Island. What does this mean? Well, in order to get my application processed, I have to go to the SSA office at 7:30 in the morning and hope that they get to my number before 8:30 so I have enough time to get back to work. I love the government so much.

I only hope this next office allows boomboxes.