All my spoons are turning into eggshells

I have a no-good, very bad, maladaptive habit of staying up too late on Sunday nights, like pulling a toddler tantrum of "Noooooo I don't want the weekend to be over yet!" Then I pay for it with being tired all day Monday.

Last night I had Good Intentions, Dammit! of going to bed on time to make up for Sunday night, but made more bad choices about clipping just one thing for a vid, and then watching Teen Wolf, and then remembering about the potluck at work today. And of course, just to punish me further, we had a monster storm roll through after midnight, and my dog chose to blame me for it, whining and pawing at things and climbing into laundry baskets and failing to make it up onto my bed until I cleared a path for her. That claimed another couple of hours.

So I am very tired today. I woke up to find that someone quite thoroughly unfriended me after my post last night, which I tried to stiff-upper-lip my way through (of course every day is make your own reading choices day - I can't and don't want to force anyone into sticking around when they think it's time to leave), but coming on top of tired and therefore low emotional reserves, it's hitting with more of a wallop than usual.

We've got the first ramp-up appointment this afternoon at the clinic to start on IVF round 3. I'm really nervous, because I've been spotting for the past week, which can't mean good things for my lining and timing. We already dropped $500 on the drugs, so I really hope we can move forward with this cycle.

Then my husband called to say that his boss is being inflexible about hours, so instead of letting him work longer days to make up for it, going with me to the clinic today is going to come out of his paycheck. So now my husband is making noises about quitting, just as we're so close to paying off our debts racked up from his last round of chosen unemployment, and I want to scream at him to suck it up already. Everybody's job sucks in some way; you just have to be a goddamned adult and deal with it. (Not a good fight to pick with him right now, and did I mention timing?)

My current work project is very frustrating because I don't know how to do almost any of it, at least according to the standards of the department, meaning I have to ask all sorts of basic questions of the person I'm pair programming with, leaving me feeling ignorant and defensive.

I can already tell that today is going to be a banner day. (Let's hope it doesn't end with a Hulk Smash.)

Mea maxima culpa

The clinic visit went fine; the sonogram showed no cysts, and the nurse took the time to go over all my medications (3 prescriptions covering 4 injections a day) and questions. Then we signed what seemed like a mortgage's worth of consent forms. The one involving frozen embryos was quite the involved example of multiple worst case scenarios.

Before that, though...I really fucked up as a human being. I sent someone an email to congratulate them on some great news, and somehow so badly mangled a suggestion (coming from an event where I wished I'd chosen differently) that I horribly offended and upset them. I wish I could take it all back and just cut myself off with the congrats. When I have outbreaks of social anxiety, I worry over everything I say and post. Times like this are exactly the reason why.

If (when) I ever show my ass and grossly offend you, please know that I don't do it out of maliciousness. Sometimes I err on the side of not shutting up in time, and for that I'm really sorry. You are by no means responsible for instructing me when I'm wrong, but I sure would appreciate it if you did.

I'm staying up just late enough to outlast the jackass who's setting off fireworks so the dog doesn't completely lose it, and then I'm taking my overwrought ass to bed.