The interesting thing is...

I was having an amazing day before Kitchen Nightmare 4. I don't remember when I last felt so happy and free.

On Tuesday I had my two week follow-up with the doctor. I'm healing nicely and the girls look terrific. Yesterday was the first day I haven't been in pain or uncomfortable. I was and am thrilled!!

Things at work are going well. Actually I should say I'm managing things at work well, especially my bosses. I finally learned how to adapt to their needs instead of expecting or trying to will them to change. It's never going to happen, but at least I am able to deal until I find a new job. My boss Tennis has been so supportive with my surgery. Although he doesn't know the specifics, he has been very concerned about how I'm feeling and flexible with my days off. I'm grateful I was still at Minnow when this happened because the added stress of a new job would have made this ten times worse. Also, my insurance might even cover it this time. (They didn't back when I was a kid.)

I had a great holiday weekend. Thursday was the first night I drank in two weeks. The night ended with a random birthday party gave me a shot of Patron at a pizza place. I was home by 8pm. Friday I was out much later having gone to seen Machete (GO! It's so fun!) and then out for drinks at Blind Tiger, Amity Hall, and the bar Fiver works at in Astoria. In my drunken stupor I bluntly asked him to come outside so we can make out. He declined, but he did only charge us $5 (Fiver!) for six beers. I'll take discounted alcohol over smooching any night. Luckily I did get some mouth loving (that sounds worse than I mean it to) on Monday night. I met this guy at Crazy Ass and we made out for a good couple of hours at another bar and on the street. He wanted me to come home with him, but I said no. I just wasn't feeling it, plus I had a stitched up boob, hairy legs, and a grandma-sized pair of Hanes on. Back in the day none of that would've mattered, but it does now. I'm growing!

And shrinking! Or will be anyways. After stuffing my face at my family's annual Labor Day party and a street fair in the hood, I decided to start counting calories again. My doctor said I should wait another week before I start running. I cannot wait! Sexy, here I come!

So all day yesterday I felt AWESOME. I couldn't wait to come home, clean the apartment, and chill. As I thought this, an evil idea popped into my head. "You're going to have a gas leak." Wait, what? Why the fuck would I have a gas leak? "Your day is going too well. You're going to come home and something will be wrong. Maybe a roach. Maybe a flood. Maybe your kitchen will kill you."

And there you have it. My freakout started three blocks from my house. When I walked into my apartment I thought my kitchen smelled funny. Then I got all lightheaded and anxious again, like I did the time with the CO poisoning. Then my night was ruined.

My kitchen probably smelled bad because I hadn't washed my dishes in four days. While I had taken the garbage out, I didn't replace the bag in the can (Juniper!) so I had some garbage just sitting in my sink. I also had a vase of dirty water and flower remains sitting on the counter.

I was probably lightheaded and anxious because I was giving myself a panic attack before I even got home. I'm quite possibly PMSing too, and those are two new symptoms I get now that I'm off the pill. I also ran up the four flights of stairs like I usually do, forgetting that I haven't actually done that in two weeks since my surgery. And while I ate about 1100 calories at work, I could have had low blood sugar, too.

All of this plus my insanity made for a crappy night. Two good things did come out of it though: one, my previous post which I've been thinking about writing for four months now and two, I finally submitted an application for renter's insurance which I should have had this whole time.

I cleaned my kitchen this morning and it smelled fine when I came home an hour ago. I've been in my bedroom writing this since then. I think I've finally calmed down now. Maybe there is a connection between my fears and 9/11, but I do have to admit Shunty (my evil, cunty self) can mindfuck the crap out of me if she feels I'm too happy. I really need to learn how to stop that bitch.