Surgery ~ma, Connie!

I didn't get a callback from the breast center, but I did manage to accidentally terrify myself. TWICE.

My cell phone rang while I was on my office phone. As soon as I could graciously exit the conversation I did, grabbed the phone, pulled up my recents, and hit redial. The woman who picked up the phone said, "Northwest Radiology Scheduling." I promptly started to hyperventilate, leading my Really Awesome Boss to gently lead me to a conference room while the scheduler was telling me to breathe, sit down, she didn't have any record that they'd called me today, but she'd call the breast center to check. The breast center hadn't called me either, as it turns out.

So I looked at my recents list again and saw a different number at the top--the radiology scheduling call was from YESTERDAY, when they'd called with this morning's appointment reminder. Either I hadn't scrolled up far enough, or there was a delay in the new call showing up in the log. I dialed the number back, to discover it'd just been a nice, innocuous wrong number.

Fast forward to 3:30. Cell phone rings again, and glancing at it I think it's the hospital's 368 prefix. Heart pounding, I pick it up...to talk to a nice staffer from the Seattle Public Library Foundation. Which uses the 386 prefix. Why yes, I would like to renew my monthly donation pledge, thank you very much.

Sheesh. I've gotten better at not stressing this stuff so much (thank you, Zoloft!), but this time around I'm extra-nervous because we're getting ready for our big European trip in June-July, so there's this added level of nerves that something might go wrong to derail something I've been looking forward to for so very long.

Would someone please tell me that the night before surgery is not the best time to be guilting myself that I haven't cleaned up my house properly yet? Especially when I have a year to get rid of stuff?

My god, the Brain Puritans are tenacious.

I am so onboard on the not getting Channing Tatum. I also don't get Bradley Cooper.

Connie, the night before surgery is for relaxing with whatever happy distractions best suit you. Cleaning is not a happy distraction. Neither is guilt.

Connie, don't worry about the stuff and the mess, and good luck tomorrow.

For me, Bradley Cooper and Jake Gyllenhaal are like that woman on Seinfeld whose appeal varied drastically depending on what sort of lighting she was in. Sometimes they're scorching hot, and sometimes kind of repulsive.

YOU GUYS I AM SO MATURE. I just responded to a work-related question (an incredibly easy one that she should not need to be coming to me for) from my former Evil Boss and I answered it politely and didn't even sign it "Fuck off and die" or anything.

PS, my new boss is AWESOME. She is smart and competent and not a psychopath! Whee!

I will confess I've been a Channing fan since way back in the day, with "Step Up," the first in a gloriously irreverent series of dance movies that continues to charm my heart. And eyeballs. He is a very talented dancer, and he ended up marrying his female co-star from the film. Whenever he talks, he comes across as a nice, albeit wild, man. I have been a fan of his face for so long I no longer see his face.

I enjoyed him in that one movie Pete made me watch with the brutal fight scenes and the MMA chick.

Aw, man -- I just watched last night's Downton and it was so sentimentally satisfying that I realized it could only be the season finale.