I couldn’t believe it… I went to my imaginary therapist’s office and HE WASN’T OPEN AT 11:30 PM! First off, I don’t know why I decided to make my imaginary therapist a man. The only therapist I ever liked was Kathleen who very obviously was not a man. Oh, and Louise, but she wasn’t an OFFICIAL therapist. She was my Thursday appointment for part of my BYU career and said straight to my face something along the lines of:
“These are your goals? Get real. You can’t do these.”
“Try setting a goal you might actually achieve like, ‘go to bed by 1.’ Then you won’t beat yourself up for failing at unrealistic goals.”
I crossed off goals like “go to bed by 9” and “learn how to do a salchow in figure skating WITHOUT cutting your leg open”. Only realistic goals from here on out.
Wow, imagine that.
Second off, why wouldn’t the therapist that I made up in my own “totally normal” head not be available for me whenever I show up? It’s not like he needs sleep or bathroom breaks.
I’ll tell you why. It’s my blog so of course I know the reason: It’s because of the health care industry; basically, it’s crappier than a pair of toddler’s swim diapers after an entire day at the beach.
I think it’s time my imaginary therapist stops billing through my insurance.
Have you ever thought about why laser eye surgery is getting better AND cheaper while other health care is becoming more unavailable AND expensive?
Stupid insurance companies, ruining everything. Too bad Americans could never put up with the pain of ripping off that band-aid and watching as health care competes for patients through greater convenience, lower prices, and innovative services.
Wow. Who would have thought that when my therapist went AWOL, I would get all serious on you, internet? Better finish this ol’ entry off with some sort of a funny story. (thinking) Got one:
A few minutes ago, I picked up a Krispy Kreme donut in the “command center” here at work*, took a big bite and forgot to swallow BEFORE taking a big breath. Donut piece went down my trachea, which promptly got very upset with me. Eventually, said trachea launched the donut piece back up only to lodge it nicely in my nasal cavity. I believe at this point, I snorted. So attractive, right? Donut piece came back in my mouth where I swallowed its deliciousness.**
*The command center is basically a computer training room with NO windows where IT geeks have to sit around and answer phone calls from lab personnel experiencing troubles in their relationship with the new computer system. I am SO glad I get to work at my desk instead of down there because I have ZERO windows up here.
**No, the donut was not actually delicious after spending a brief period relaxing in my nasal cavity, but I wasn’t about to spit it out in front of all my coworkers who were now watching to see if I would collapse due to my own breathing/swallowing issues.