Daylight Savings can stick it…

Seriously…they have it right in Arizona.  And Hawaii.  And parts of Indiana.

Daylight savings is for the birds.

I woke up at 9 am yesterday.  But no, wait…it’s only 8 am!  Sorry sweetie, the government decided we get to jump ahead an hour, remember?  Grrr…

I’m generally screwed up for about a week after the change.  Reverting back to standard time typically isn’t an issue, but DST throws me for a loop, and sometimes throws me under the bus.  There’s nothing like waking up, looking at the clock, and realizing you slept through all 3 (yes, that’s three) alarms (what can I say?  I’m not really a morning person.)  Add to that thinking that you have a meeting at 9 am (which turned out to be at 10:30 am..whew!) and you have a slightly panicked person on your hands. A few expletives later, I was sitting at my desk (hooray for working from home!  Bed to desk in less than 50 feet!) and opening applications, looking for meeting notifications.

Stress does not suit me well some days.

In addition to being a stress eater (always fun), I tend to manifest stress psychosomatically (hmmm…FireFox spell check doesn’t like that word.  Tough.)  Usually I’ll end up with a nasty cough, or a cold sore, or a canker sore. This weekend, I developed the trifecta.  Perfect!  I’ve got it all!

On their own, each is generally just an annoyance that just eventually go away (with some minor discomfort involved.)  This time around however,  it’s a bit more than I’m inclined to handle.   And they aren’t so easy to take care of.  Normally the canker sores respond well to my typical treatment of baking soda paste (stings, but is affective.)  Not so much this time around.  The typical 1 had decided to clone itself and now there are 5…making my lip swollen, talking difficult, and eating painful at best.  I tried other home remedies (peroxide, equal parts MoM and liquid benadryl…that’s interesting), nothing doing.  Finally called up my dentist and I got a script…this teeny tiny tube…

…for $55.  Suckage.

It so better work.

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About maggyruth

Mid-thirties, Mid-Atlantic transplant. Fiber-artist, hidden poet, health educator, student. Still trying to figure out what I want to be when I grow up. I swear sometimes. Especially when I'm mad. Deal with it. View all posts by maggyruth

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