Saturday, August 25, 2007

THIS is how I feel about change!

Remember how I mentioned I'm not the greatest Handler of Change? Those who know me best know that's just the teeniest smidge of an understatement. "Schizo Poodle" is actually more of an accurate description of what I become whenever something big is on the horizon.

Moving day is rapidly approaching. The days are flying by and it's now officially T-minus forty-seven hours and counting 'til the packers come. And while I am excited out of my mind, seriously GIDDY with delirium, I am also...well, a bit out of my mind. It's the whole departure-from-the-rut that gets me. Change, even when it's of the dream-come-true variety, is hard for me to weather gracefully. Unlike my maniac brother, I'm a girl who loves the nice, deep, comfy grooves of life. When the grooves get disturbed, I become weird. I guess you could say I'm a little out-of-whack right now.

Sleeping. Very little is occurring. (As evidenced by the fact that I'm writing this at 2:04 in the a.m). My brain just won't TURN OFF. Even though I have my handy-dandy pen and paper right there on the nightstand beside me, should a "To Do" item pop into my brain and need releasing, I still just lie there and THINK. And flop around and sigh. Usually at some point during my antics I start worrying that I'm keeping Russ awake and end up roaming to the couch. Then I go back to the bed...then back to the couch. I get more exercise in the middle of the night than any time during the day.

Eating. Again, very little is occurring. Unless, of course, you count my stomach eating itself. ...But fear not. Nobody panic. I have plenty of Chubby Goodness to carry me through this crazy time and into hibernation next winter.

Tending to daily hygienic obligations. I mean, I'm still doing everything. Don't jump up and cross me off your Friends List just yet. Bathing, brushing teeth, deodorizing, changing clothes, etc, etc - I'm doing those things. I'm just not remembering to do them until way later in the day than normal. ...Like right before I haul my Big Nast Self into bed at night. Running around like a chicken with my head cut off and cramming stuff in boxes (while keeping track of the world's most high maintenance toddler) is chewing up all of the time and energy I usually devote to de-funkification and beautifying. And we all know I have quite the extensive Beauty Routine. Hee HEE!

So, I guess you could say all of the systems are currently a bit screwy. I could've gone into some bowel disturbances as well, but mom says this isn't the forum for that type of discussion. So I'll refrain. See, mom. Aren't you proud? A hint of a filter!

Which brings us to the Odd-Things-Happening-To-Me List. Let's all pause, shall we, for a Hypochondriac review of the symptoms:

1.) Headaches.

2.) Stomach jabbies.

3.) Hair falling out by the super-fun wadfuls in the shower.

4.) Weird dreams, involving lots of running. And macaroni-eating.

5.) Tingly, hairy-feeling forehead.

Oh, and then there's this:




I developed this little niftiness out-of-the-blue the other day. 24 hours later, it was still just 'a going.

One diagnosis of "focal seizures" by one Head Neurologist + one MRI with and without contrast later, and all we really know it what it isn't:

A brain tumor. Multiple sclerosis. CNS Lupus. Or a plethora of other really bad diseases, which the neurologist was suspecting (but opting not to reveal to me until after the scan came back clear).

So, yay! It's really quite fantastic that we've ruled those hideous things out. Which brings us back to - What is it?

According to Russ it is: "One of the weirdest things ever."

Ahh. Good. Official clarification.

Regardless...

I think it's proof that when I say "change makes me twitchy", I'm being literal.

******

And then there's Russ...

In typical I'm-Stressed, Therefore-I-Sleep-Talk fashion, he yelled out from the bedroom last night while I was in here at the computer: "Hot. Itchy. Chicken!"

I went in there to check on him and he put his hand out, like "HALT!", and pointed at the closet. "Wait over there. I'm good."

Oh, man.

Dear Lord, get us through the move and settled once again in a comfy groove. Before we both pass the point of Kooked-Out No Return.

3 comments:

sarah p said...

You had me in tears watching that video of your hand twitching. That is seriously the funniest (and strangest) thing I've ever seen on a little video clip. Ever. So funny. In an "I'm so sorry you're twitching" kind of way, of course. Hang in there, buddy! You're in the home stretch! The fact that you have packers. PACKERS. says a LOT. They can handle all of the stress of figuring what goes in what boxes. That's great! Sip yourself a soda while they pack away. Just make sure they don't pack Sophie. =) Soon, you'll be resting comfortably in Arkansas with dreams of little Razorbacks dancing through your head...

Kristy said...

Yes. Good point, Sarah.

Packers enable me to not be institutionalized.

Today we tackled taking down wall stuff and spackling holes. Then we got out our trillion different little cans of touch-up paint and made everything look just beautimus. =)

sarah p said...

ooh. I absolutely HATE having to touch-up paint. I don't like the tedious-ness of it all. I know that even though you have packers and movers it's still a stressful thing...just not AS stressful as it could be, right? I can't wait to come and visit you in your new house! You'll have it looking so cool!

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