Color Me Alexander

Which is to say I am having a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.

Except I'm not.

Really, truly I'm not.  There is nothing objectionable about this day, per se, it's just that I woke up in a mood that said there is.  And I've been halfheartedly fighting the funk ever since.

Part of it, I'm sure, is the discomfort I'm in.  For no reason that I can discern, last week some of my joints decided to freak out, and while it wasn't a big deal at first (beyond my wounded vanity over my normally-slender fingers), as the days have gone by the pain has escalated to the point where it's waking me up at night.  And pain waking me up at night is usually my line in the sand.  Because seriously you guys- I like my sleep.

(Not to mention a vague terror that I might not regain the strength/dexterity in my right hand.  But that, like my "terrible day", is not a real thing.  It's just me being neurotic and worst-case-scenario-y thing.)(It happens.)

Anyway, said line in the sand is the point at which I bother to make an appointment with a doctor, which I have done.  But not just any doctor, oh no!  I am biting the bullet and going outside of my provider's network so that I can, at long last, have dealings with a (highly recommended) doctor of naturopathic medicine.  I am seriously looking forward to my first appointment: a full hour in which she will actually listen to me talk about my medical  history and my observations regarding my health.  And not send me off to get a totally pointless cat scan.  I justified the extra expense by telling myself that if this doctor works out the way I hope she does, she will be just as interested as I am in preventative care, which means I won't end up having to see her as often as I would an in-network provider.

We shall see.

The other part of my general surliness is due, no doubt, to my in-laws having left today.  Yes, you read that correctly: crankiness from in-laws leaving, not arriving.  There were here just shy of a week, and it did not feel like long enough.  Which, I suppose, is the recommended length-of-stay for house-guests: too short for the Last Day to be a true Relief.  It was a fun experience, squiring them about the area, doing my Tour Guide thing.  Not to mention the help they pitched in around the house.  Momma B refinished our end-tables and helped me paint the master bedroom ceiling, while Pops helped me with the gutters and Nathan with the new ceiling fan (which is to say helped him come to the conclusion that we need a real electrician to install the darn thing).

But they are gone now, and I am mopey and Missing Family.

Nathan has not been entirely unaffected by all of this, either, and so he and I have agreed to spend the evening doing precisely nothing (or in my case, only things which I find soothing, such as whining to my blog and ironing sheets) (don't judge).  So at least there's that to temper the awfulness of this not-actually-awful day.