Will it ever stop? Yo, I don't know!

I think, on the whole, that I have a pretty good fucking attitude.

I have my low moments, for sure.

Nick called earlier to say hi, and I'd just been upstairs in my mom's room. And so while I'd been sending him breezy texts, the moment he caught me, I was crying.

The thing is, I know I'm crying for me. For my kids. My mama, she's fine. It's those of us left behind who hurt.

So once I stopped taking Anastrozole last week, my life improved day by day.

By Saturday morning I was feeling good enough to put on this superhero outfit and head to a neighbor's for brunch in honer of a mom from our school who moved away years ago.

Before that I nipped over to the farmer's market, and I got the last Swiss chard.

The guy selling bread complimented me on my jacket, which I got on Facebook Marketplace. That place is a wonder. 

I don't even particularly like Swiss chard. It's just supposed to be really fucking good for you.

And I have a high tolerance for ingesting stuff that's good for you. Like, I can make myself eat or drink pretty much anything if I have to.

Anything not animal, I mean. Like, no blood pudding or tongue or calf heart or what-have-you. Although do those even fall in the category of good for you?

So last night I sauteed the Swiss chard, and Nick tried some, because he's trying to say yes to vegetables even though on the whole they make him want to burn the house down. He was like, "It tastes like not very much of anything."

I ate a whole bowl of it even though I totally agreed. 

He said, "Maybe in a smoothie?" Which reminded me of why I make the smoothies.

So now I have to go to the post office, and honestly, our nearest post office is staffed by one of the meanest humans around.

In the spring I was trying to do a return of the Fleabag jumpsuit that I'd bought for my high school reunion, but the size was wrong. So I wanted to pop it in the mail back to the UK, until I realized that mailing parcels to England costs a million dollars. 

Anyway, I will not bore you with the details, but the woman behind the counter was so incredibly mean. And then the shipping cost was crazy.

So after she told me the cost, I said, "I'm going to take this over to UPS. Where they're nice." And then I told her the actual definition of a word she'd been using loudly, repeatedly, and incorrectly.

I can't even remember it now. 

Did I need to do this? Of course not. But at the time, it felt necessary.

I don't care how smart you are or aren't, and I keep my mouth shut when people use words incorrectly. 

Unless you'are a giant strobelight bitchfaced bitch on wheels to me, apparently.

So I walked down the street to UPS and asked if it would cost a million dollars to mail something to the UK.

The guy laughed and was like, "Maybe?"

I said I'd just been at the Post Office up the street to mail it and the woman in there was so mean.

Another customer turned from the other counter and said, "Oh my god! That woman is so fucking mean!"

She had her own whole story. I've repeated this and multiple people in the neighborhood have agreed. Apparently, it is known.

Anyway, the UPS cost was prohibitive--like, more than the item had cost in the first place.

So now I know not to order from England. I was used to Boden, where you return it for free in the US.

Why why why is it so expensive to send stuff to the UK?

I think I'll post it on Marketplace.

In any case, I have to go. Even without the mean lady, the Post Office is one of my impossible tasks.

I tell people not to leave stuff at my house, because it will take me eighty-five years to mail it.

Oh my gosh. And I now! 

Now I have been instructed to restart Anastrozole, but they're also calling in a prescription for anti-nausea medication, because I told them I was scared to take it. 

I cannot handle the nausea. I just can't.

The nurse told me that the nurse practitioner said that nausea was a very unlikely side effect of Anastrozole, but they're happy to give me Zofran. But to be mindful if I'm taking it regularly.

Apparently Zofran can make you constipated. Several friends told me this.

But between nausea and constipation? No contest. 

(And they're welcome to tell me that it's a very rare side effect. OK. It's my very rare side effect.)

In fact, I don't think I'd choose nausea over any other kind of discomfort. I mean, certainly over like losing a limb or something.

But otherwise, I think it's top of my list of terrible bodily feelings.

Anyway, that's me and my great fucking attitude.

How are you today?