A few days back I posted about a conversation Gary and I had about getting the Mini fixed.
What I haven't told you about is the conversation from the day before, Tuesday. I had to save that for this week's Friday Freakout. (It occurs to me now that Menopausal Mondays might have been a better choice.)
Anyway, Tuesday evening we had some errands to run. I'd had a fine day at work. Quiet. Productive.
I walked in after work and Gary said, "We have to get the Mini fixed. I tried to drive it today, and it gave off an awful smell."
"Why did you want to drive the Mini? What kind of smell? And we'll get it fixed, just not right now."
"I wanted to visit my parents! It was an exhaust smell! And look here, I researched what a used Mini would cost!" He shoved a printout into my hands.
"Let's talk about this later, Gary. I don't want to think about this now."
After we got in the Honda so we could go buy the squirrels some nuts, he continued, "The used Minis have a one year warranty - "
A little loudly, I said, "Stop it. I love my Mini. I hate the Mini dealer. My Mini is fine. Stop TALKING ABOUT this."
About half a mile down the road he said, "If we got a new car - "
"STOP! IT!" I could tell I was starting to lose it. I tried to calm myself down by concentrating on my breathing. I concentrated so well I started to hyperventilate and got a little woozy.
After a few minutes of shaky breathing I said, "I'm sorry. I had the working car and you didn't get to see your parents. Did you call your parents instead? How are they?"
He said, "Well, Mom's not feeling well."
I burst into tears. "WAAAAHH Your Mom's sick and I had the car and you couldn't seeeeee heeeeerrrrrr."
I was able to calm down by the time he went into the bird store to pick up the nuts.
When he got back to the car he hesitantly said, "Are you okay now?"
I burst into tears again. "I'm sorry I'm like this now I HATE MYSELF." Sob sob sob.
I sobbed for about three miles before he took a shortcut that led us the wrong way through the McDonald's parking lot. You can't sob and gasp in terror at the same time. Good to know. That's a Life Hack right there.
That episode calmed me down, so that by the time we were done with the Walgreen's drive-through I calmly and pleasantly asked, "So what side effects come with this new cholesterol medication?"
"Uhhhhh ... it says,'increased sensitivity to pain.'"
I burst into tears again. "WAAAAAAHHHHHHH," I wailed, "YOURE GOING TO BE IN MORE PAIN?"
Seriously. This is not acceptable. I'm like Miss Pittipat with the fucking fantods.