The finest drops

At first, having a ybab is sort of like being a recovering alcoholic. There’s a lot of counting days involved. Then weeks. I realized I’ve stopped counting days and started counting in months. This is Good News. A ybab is 196 days old tomorrow. I figured that out, just now, with my pocket calculator.

I’ve been trying to work on some terms of emotional surrender on a variety of issues, and I’m still not there yet. My new rules for 2007 are simple: No Being a Shit. And instead of curbing my occasional irrational rage responses, I’ve decided that others need to simply be better and faster at any interaction that must involve me. Why, did I ever tell you about the time that Mr. H’s former employer mistakenly cancelled our health insurance prematurely and forgot to fund our FSA? That time would be yesterday, when I found out. Outsourcing is working very well in that they don’t have voicemail in those offices, so I can’t call up and scream at them for the length of time that voicemail records. Their loss!!!!!

The rest of you are On Notice. No Being a Shit.

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