And when do you expect the grownups to arrive?

This week has been "one of those weeks" in so many ways. Every morning I wake up my cheerful and optimistic self only to be slammed with the details of life.

I was supposed to take Monday off. It was going to be great. Get out of Houston, explore the area. Well, no such luck. My kitty has been drinking so much water lately. I thought he was just being a pig, but I did a bit of research on Sunday night and saw that increased water consumption is a sign of diabetes. That left me unable to sleep Sunday night.

I called the vet first thing Monday morning. They said that, Yes, that is a sign of diabetes and that I should bring him in so that I could get him checked out. Rather than spend the morning at home obsessing about my cat, I decided to go to work and obsess about that. On the way to the vet's the cat got completely spooked by a carpet shampooing machine in the stairwell and pissed all over his cage. That was fun (luckily the people at the vet's took care of most of the cleaning for me).

Well, yesterday morning I found out that my cat does, in fact, have diabetes and that I'm going to have to start giving him insulin shots. He's freakin' 5 years old, folks. Then, soon after finding out, I had what will be known, in my mind, as one of the worst. meetings. ever. That I left seriously pissed and near my breaking point. Prior my good anger management training, I would have started screaming at people. However, new Kristen just gets in her car and cries. New Kristen gets home and sobs. And knits a few rows. But then I felt better. I'm not sure that's exactly what the anger management people had in mind, but at least I didn't scream at anyone.

This morning, I faced the daunting challenge that is getting cats in the cat carrier. After shoving one cat in butt first, pulling another cat from under the bed, and listening to my little babies cry, I took them both out to the car, brought my breakfast, purse and knitting to the car, and tried to start it. Of course, as the universe exacts its revenge on me for gossiping about co-workers, giving my cat diabetes and having an annoyingly positive outlook on things, it won't start.

Now I get to play the game that women around the world love: Is the mechanic just trying to rip me off? I always dread the call: "Ma'am your car needs a new transmission, engine, exhaust system, oil change, and tire rotation. Oh and the reason it won't start is that the starter is dead." Then I always say, "Well how was it running if all those things are broken?" And then they say (they must have training for this), "Well Miss, these things are about to break and will cause serious problems once they do. These problems will ruin your life, kill your cats, and make it impossible for you to find a man that wants to marry you." Assholes.

And it's only Wednesday morning. Not only have I found out that my cat has a disease that is going to cost me some unknown amount of money to treat. But my car is broken which always ends up costing a TON. And the tow truck is NEVER going to get here. And I still have to go through the rest of this day, tomorrow and Friday.