Going to be Okay
9:39 p.m. - September 01, 2003

The weekend is almost over.

Thank God.

Bad new is that I know I won't be able to sleep. The past three nights I've spent falling asleep on the couch only to wake up around three, crawling into bed and sleeping until eleven has probably ruined my ability to get to sleep at any decent hour.

I really meant to get up early today but slept on the couch until six (woke up to Blues Clues - I don't wish that on anyone). I thought that I'd only need a couple more hours of sleep but sometime Friday I accidentally unplugged my alarm clock and never fixed it so every time I woke up I thought, "It can't be much past nine" and went back to sleep. Yep, it was a quarter after eleven when I got up.

But, I did a load of laundry and sort of cleaned the kitchen. I ran to the grocery store for kitty litter, Diet Coke and yet another pregnancy test. The directions from the last one said to take one when you discovered that you were late and, if it was negative, to take another in a week if you were still sans period. If the second one shows negative, call your doctor. So I took the second. And I splurged on an EPT rather than the Meijer brand. As if that's going to make a difference. Still negative. But still no period.

So now I'm thinking I should wait until Wednesday to call the doctor. As if my period is magically going to show up on its regular day three weeks later.

I don't know.

I'm going to be okay, though. Tim called earlier. He was sick and sounded it and it was so nice to worry about someone else. He's worried about work and, I think, just needed someone to tell him it's going to be okay. So I did. Gladly. We talked about our weekends and after a pause he asked, "How are the cats?"

He hates my cats. He's allergic. We have a stray living under a car at the office. His advice was to wait until the cat had crawled into the engine of the car and then driving said car. So I thought that was really nice. Odd but somewhat touching in my crazy life.

After twenty minutes I said, "Get some sleep, Chip, I hope you feel better." He laughed. That's "our little joke." I used to get him confused with Chip when he would call into work (and I got Ryan confused with Big because he always says, "to you," or "to Emily ----," when I ask where I could direct his call - Big did that) so now he always says "Hi Emily, it's Chip," whether he's calling me at work or at home.

It was a nice conversation. Short and non-important but it made me feel good to talk about things that weren't important and, like I said, to worry about someone else. I hung up the phone and actually said, out loud, "I'm going to be okay."

'Cause I am. Damn all my memories and damned Big for leading me on and lying to me only to turn around five days later to tell me, for the second or third time, that he had changed his mind and was going to make his marriage work. It'll get better with every day that goes by.

Barring that trip to the doctor if Aunt Flo doesn't show up in the next twenty-four hours, of course....

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