Doorknobs fear me....

So, those of you who have read here for a while know that I have a bit of a history of with doorknobs. Don't try to keep me out of my house. I have no problem taking out a doorknob. Today was no exception.

A couple of days ago, Snazzy escaped - yes, again. She is one of the original Houdini dogs, after all. This time it was due to the fact that the fence at this house is quite old and should probably be replaced. Tuesday morning, I found Snazzy in the neighbor's backyard, having gotten there via a loose picket in the fence. She couldn't get BACK in our yard though and was very distraught. I found the picket, let her back in, checked for other loose boards (I thought) and then we had a nap. That afternoon, I went to pick up SugarPlum from school and when I got back, Snazzy wasn't there...McGee was, but no Snazzy. She had gotten out on the OTHER side of the yard thru a (missed) loose picket and the neighbor on that side has no fence across the front of her house. Hence, NO SNAZZY. SP begged me to go drive around and look for her, which I did until I had to pick up the boys. Then, we had to take SP and a teammate to soccer practice & then I had class. I was bummed. I had a headache. I was having major anxiety. I totally faked my way thru class that night. But when I got home, Snazzy was here - a lady about two blocks over found her, called & brought her home. Yay!

So...today...I had to go get a temporary crown put on at the dentist (or the "sadist" as my phone auto-corrected it to in a text HHAHA!!). I got home, noticed a picket that looked a little wonky & went out to check it. Both dogs were still back there, so I wasn't too worried. I secured the slightly loose board and then turned to come back in. Only the doorknob was locked. As was every other door to the house. My purse, keys and phone were sitting on the kitchen table. I COULD SEE THEM. But, short of busting a window, I couldn't get to them. Dammit.

I remembered my badassedness of a few years back. Only I had no hammer. So I grabbed the closest thing I could think of - the grill brush. That helped some but it wasn't terribly effective. SO, I scanned the back yard and realized that we have an abundance of loose bricks back there. (I have no idea why, but I wasn't feeling very inquisitive at that point) So, I grabbed a brick and proceeded to knock the crap out of the doorknob. Twice....and then about 900 angry ants came out of the brick. Oops. I survived that unscathed and found another brick that did NOT contain an entire colony of pissed off ants and continued the whacking. Eventually, the doorknob came off. But the door was still locked.

YOU HAVE GOT TO BE FREAKIN' KIDDING ME. (may or may not have been the precise words used...)

So, I went and pulled the Brinks padlock off of the shed (the only thing in the whole vicinity NOT locked) and used the top part to reach up into the mechanism and try to pull the ring from around it and then get it to unlock. AND? I broke the padlock.

I BROKE A DAMN PADLOCK, PEOPLE. It's like I have super-human strength....only not enough to get my damn door open. I was sweaty. My tooth hurt. I was tired. I was hungry. I wanted to be INSIDE my house.

I used the really hard part of the padlock to beat the small parts of the mechanism again and then used the other half of the U that hadn't broken off and fiddled around with the odd bits inside the doorknob mechanism (also cussed a little) until FINALLY the door popped open. I was so happy. And feeling very empowered. With the exception of my tooth throbbing now and the growing migraine. But I DID have the presence of mind to take a picture to prove once again what a badass I am. Because - seriously, GO ME! Also, I took the time to post it on Facebook. And write an entire blog post about it. Because that's how I roll....

Moral of the Story: Don't piss me off. Especially if there are bricks around. Ants optional.

Conversations that make my mom laugh her ass off (10 year-old version...continued)

SugarPlum: My room is all clean!

Me: Did you really get it all clean or did you just push everything to the edges of your room so that the middle *looks* clean but if one pays any attention at all, she can see the piles of CRAP lining the perimeter? Because if it's the latter, I will have to say, no, it is NOT clean and you cannot go to Izzy's house until it is.

SugarPlum: :::BIGGEST SIGH EVER::: followed by *slamming door *

That's what I thought.


Me: Slam that door again and I'm taking it off the hinges!

Some days you're the doorknob, some days you're the Giant F'ing Gorilla

Last night, I was the gorilla. And this doorknob pissed. me. off.



Yesterday was crazy. An absolute clusterfuck of activities. Totally exacerbated by the fact that SD was night flying and was therefore unavailable for transporting SugarBabies about town. He's so selfish. Working and all. So, the schedule was this:

3:30 Parent/Teacher conference
4:00-6:00: SP's soccer practice
6:00-7:00: Bug's soccer practice
6:30-??? Bear's Boy Scout meeting

Allegedly.

So, I bust my ass getting back from the conference to get SP to soccer practice on time. And we made it! But? Nobody was there. Because practice actually started at 4:30. No worries. We hung out for a few minutes and some people showed up. I remembered that I hadn't grabbed Bear's Cub Scout uniform, so I ran back home to fetch it and then came back. (Remember this...this is key) We hang out at practice and by 6:00, I needed to go pee. I mean REALLY needed to. And there is no bathroom at the practice field. So, as soon as SP is dismissed from practice, we hightail it to McDonalds, so that I can potty and so that we can get some food.

If you paid any attention to that schedule up there, it required that I be in two places at once. I'm good....but not cloned yet. Bug's practice got ditched. He's four. He'll get over it.

SO. We eat our crappy fast food on our way to the scout meeting - Bear still hasn't changed clothes. We get to the church right at 6:30! Wooo hoooo!! But wait! There's no one here. Not a soul. The doors are locked. the lights are out. CRAP.

Actually, not all that disappointed. I was ready to go home and chill. So, we head to the casa and everyone unloads their crap I go to unlock the deadbolt and discover that someone has locked the doorknob. I don't have a key to the doorknob. SD is flying. Crap.

So, I try hitting the door with my shoulder like the cops on TV do. Guess what. That shit hurts. Also, it doesn't work. So, I try to jimmy the lock with a credit card. That doesn't work either. Last resort? I start whacking the holy hell out of the doorknob with a hammer until it opens. It was actually pretty cathartic. Though, poor SD got home and thought that someone had tried to break into the house.

I'm such a badass.

Yet more about my boobs...subtitled:

Some things should NEVER be a surprise


Don't get me wrong. I LOVE surprises. Birthday presents? Don't tell me, I want to be surprised. Friend in town for a few hours and wants to pop by? Super! (Just forgive the outrageous mess that is my humble (very humble) home) Diamond earrings just because it's Thursday? Fan-freaking-tastic. (also, a not-so-subtle hint to certain husbands...). But some things, well, there are certain things I like to have some advanced notice about.

Last Tuesday, the day finally arrived in which I was able to keep my appointment at the surgery clinic for the biopsy consultation. After the ridiculously inconclusive mammogram last month, I was glad to finally get the ball rolling (as it were) toward some answers about this lump I've been walking around with since January.

When I made the appointment, the lady told me at least three times that this appointment was "only a consultation. You understand that, right, Mrs. Lasttname? This is just a consultation for the biopsy." Are we all clear? It was only for a consultation. *ahem*

So I get there, check in, the nurse takes my vitals and gives me the gown with the obvious (to me anyway) instructions to tie it in the front. So I change and go back to reading my book. Soon, in comes the surgeon. Who happens to be the same guy who performed the surgery when I had the ectopic pregnancy four years ago. I wasn't a big fan of his then. Of course, I wasn't very pleased with anyone at that hospital that day.

This day, however, he was lovely. Very nice, very informative, very patient (heh), willing to answer all my questions. He asked my age, how many children I have, how many times I've been pregnant (depends on your POV: either four or five), and how long I breastfed my children total. (59 months!! That is almost three years! Holy crap!) And then? He was actually able to feel the lump! Which is more than I can say for the other two doctors I have seen for this. Then he marked the spot with a Sharpie. He got his ultrasound machine and tried to find said lump. He wasn't able to see it on the ultrasound either. But! He was very good to show me what I was seeing: the fatty tissue, the mammary glands (now depleted from 59 months!! of nourishing children) the breast tissue. But he couldn't see the lump which he assured me was a good thing. But, since he did indeed feel that lump, he thought that it would be a good idea to go ahead and do a fine needle biopsy.

NOW.

Wha?! Huh?! The hell?! But...but...but...the lady! She said that this was just the consultation!!!! If I had know that you were going to stick a needle in my boob, I would have taken some Xanax first! NO FAIR!!!! On the other hand, this meant that I would have answers sooner rather than later, so, okay, fine.

(May I just say that they really need to reconsider the name of this procedure. "Fine needle biopsy?" There was nothing fine about that needle. In fact, I believe that "Big Ass Needle Biopsy" would be a more accurate name for it. Yes, it might scare a few people, but at least you have a more realistic expectation as to what is to come.)

So, Dr. D gives me a little shot of lidocaine (with an actual fine needle) in "the area." I am feeling confident that I can deal with this. He starts to put the not-exactly-fine needle in the breast tissue and I am thinking, "Well, this isn't so bad. Not nearly as bad as the thyroid biopsy. I don't know what I was so freaked out ab- - - HOLY MOTHER OF.......THAT HURTS! What kind of sadist is this man? Shitshitshitshitshit! How long is this going to take?"

Meanwhile Dr. D is telling me that he has to get samples from all angles of the lump, blah blah blah....meanwhile he jerks that big ass needle all over the place and I am trying not to come up off the table and nail him in the jaw. Finally, he takes the needle out and goes over to where the slides are laid out and says, "Let's see if we got enough for a sample."

Um, you better hope you got enough because I can assure you, Dr. DeSade, that you won't be sticking that thing in me again. Besides, there isn't that much there to begin with!

Luckily, he decided that there was enough. As he is finishing up the slides, he assures me again that he really doesn't think that I have anything to worry about. He tells me to come back in one week for a follow up and to get my results. *sigh*

When I started to get up, I got all hot and dizzy and nauseated. I really thought I was going to pass out. I managed to get my clothes on and bent over the trash can in anticipation of the puke that never happened. Thank goodness. But I kept thinking that if I could have just taken a Xanax before, I wouldn't be going through this.

There were, technically, no appointments available this week. Lucky for me, the nurse could sense my anxiety over this and said that she would "create an appointment." I like her. So, I was scheduled for this Tuesday at 10:45. Be on time!


More tomorrow....or Friday. I promise!