Plan B

I've taken a couple of days off from the blog while I cooled down and considered what happened.  After creating such a specific schedule and investing so much emotion into the process, I was unable to step back and come up with a new solution, which is usually something I am very adept at.  Just ask my husband.  Heaven knows he gets irritated at the fact that he can scarcely utter a complaint before I shoot back with a solution.  

When I walked into the office on Thursday morning, my office mate Ryan Murphy looked at me and said, "I read your blog.  So I guess you're just going to report to the Academy early then take leave after you get there."  I started to open my mouth to enumerate all of the reasons that this was a ludicrous suggestion.  I came up completely blank.  That doesn't happen often either.  Just ask my husband.

Being emotionally removed from the situation, Ryan Murphy had solved my huge dilemma in about 15 seconds.  As it turns out, that wasn't nearly the tragedy that I was making it out to be.  

Thanks, Murphy!  

If I'm this wound up about a little slip up at the doctor's office, I fear that my over-planning, control freak self is in for a rude awakening when we have an unpredictable little one running around the house.  The first time I get spit up on my white couch or grape juice spilled on my Jimmy Choo's, I'm going to totally lose it.  A more immediate concern is the freak show I'm going to turn into when I start taking hormones.  My poor husband.