Run. Dog. Cat. Cat. Me.

Pride goeth before a fall. And after.

I was really pretty proud of myself.  I’m disappointed now, of course, but then I disappoint myself more than I make myself proud so I’m used to that.

But, then I considered the fact that I’d lasted much longer than I expected so I felt rather proud again.  Not really, really proud like, Oh, Look, I did an Ironman.  Or like Oh, Look, I invented something that will save lives.  More like, Oh, Look, I managed to not kick a kitten.

JUST KIDDING I would not kick a kitten.  You know, unless it got right in front of my foot when I was walking and I didn’t see it and it sailed through the air by accident, so I think that should not count.  Plus she’s just fine.  She’s like three years old now and still shows no adverse effects and also she was so damn tiny, I really did not see her.

I was so committed to being rational and patient, too.  I practiced thinking patient rational things.  I said them out loud to other people.  “Well, I’m just going to look at this as my reset button.”  “I’ll just wait until January and go back to the beginning.”  “This is probably a good thing to happen.  Maybe I’ve finally figured out the cause of all the issues.”

And I meant it.  I really did.  I listened to me talking and watched my brain, and brain was nodding in agreement.  Brain was all zen and calm and agreeing with everything we said.  I thought, wow, I’m actually calm.  I’m being calm and focused and not letting this upset me, and I felt proud of myself.

The thing that frustrates me, among about 10,000,000 other things, is that I suspect there are some people out there that never threw their boot across the room mentioning its very questionable parentage.

Pride goeth before a fall.

Yesterday  morning I thought, Oh, look, I’ve had this @#$%& – @#&(‘ing boot since Thursday and it’s Monday which is going on five days and I didn’t throw it across the room yet.

Just in case you ever need to know, the damn things don’t break easily.  This is probably a good thing, though, since I don’t want to have to call the grumpy receptionist at the podiatrist’s and tell her I broke my foot and my boot, please ma’am may I have another? because the way she sighs on the phone the papers on the other lady’s desk probably blow all over in a whirlwind and you know that would be my fault also.  

Pride goeth after the fall too.