Best wishes, Susan. Take the time to do what's best for you. And hurry back when you're ready.

So Graco rocks my world. Again.

I called them to get a replacement tray for the highchair. They are sending one.

For free.

Right now it's waiting until I get a job. The way our insurance is structured, it pays 60% of the costs of most counseling-type treatments, and the stress of putting the remaining 40% onto our gradually escalating credit card debt feels like it'd make my anxiety worse rather than better.

Yeah, that's the exact scenario that drove me out of therapy, too.

Which reminds me, I need to call my doctor back. You know, when a patient calls to say they need to make a change in their AD medications, a call back in less that - let me tot it up - 10 days might be appreciated. It's a good thing I'm not actually in any real crisis.

that's why I'm not seeking it to (drumroll please) deal with my deeply-rooted anxiety about... money.

It's a horrid little twist, isn't it? Almost O Henry-ish, but with a nasty dash of grindingly mundane to leave an extra-bad taste.

I hope both of you can find the help you need, in a form you can afford. I wish it weren't so hard to find that combination (but that's a rant I've gone on too many times already).

I got a flu shot yesterday. My arm still hurts. Word to the wise--relax your arm as much as possible when the needle goes in.

So Graco rocks my world. Again.

Ages ago my Graco swing stopped swinging and they replaced it. They do indeed rock.

It's a horrid little twist, isn't it? Almost O Henry-ish, but with a nasty dash of grindingly mundane to leave an extra-bad taste.

I KNOW!

So I'm finding new ways to cope that do not involve shopping. Or window shopping. Or dreaming of shopping. Or shoes.

I'm thinking decluttering my house will be my new coping thing. I could do that forever!

So I'm finding new ways to cope that do not involve shopping. Or window shopping. Or dreaming of shopping. Or shoes.

Isn't it awful? My first response to stress today was, "What do I need at Target?"

I mean, that's not even *fun* shopping. And yet, the idea of buying toothpaste and baby wipes (and okay, possibly a paperback and some cheap earrings) was so very comforting.

OK. Ducking out. Back eventually.

I mean, that's not even *fun* shopping.

This is why I love grocery shopping. I read labels, I compare price per oz., I weigh the ephemeral joy quotient of a bundt cake over a carton of ice cream.

Other kinds of shopping are too hard. I start with a blouse, it's lovely, on sale for $35.00, and then I think about how much food I could get for that money, or that it's the telephone bill for a month, and then I put it back and go to a different store and find one for only $15. I'm proud of myself for a moment, until I hold it up, and I realize it hangs a little funny and it might not be quite my color, and besides, $15.00 would pay for several loaves of bread and jars of peanut butter, which are a necessity in this house, and then I put it back and decide I'll just pick up some replacement buttons for the clothes I have at home, and then I go grocery shopping instead.