It’s not even 8am, and I want a do-over.

I have the day off, which would normally be cause for celebration – mid-summer long weekend hooray, right? Oh, but no.

I will be spending the majority of the day propped up with my various orifices splayed open for all and everyone to poke around in – four months after I made the pact, today is FINALLY the day I’m getting my lady garden soil tested. In just over an hour, I’ll be in naked North Vancouver with people spelunking all up in my girl business, and I plan to have The Talk with the doctors – FIX THIS FUCKING SHIT ALREADY. I’m tired of the Recurring Bad, and I demand they exorcise the evil out of my vagina once and for all. It’s my right to not be in random alarming pain with no real diagnosis, damnit – although, it’s ALSO my right to not have any goddamn kids, but we all know how far I got in THAT fight with these very same doctors. So, we’ll see. I am battle ready. Bring it, doctor bitches.

That’d be bad enough, and the reason I took the day off – but I’m a sadist, so this afternoon I have another dentist appointment. The cleaning is done, so today is the first of two appointments to fix the three cavities I have, and replace my old toxic fillings with less shiny white ones. There will be drilling, and prying, and filling, and I HATE ALL OF THIS SO HARD! I know it needs to be done, but that doesn’t mean I have to like any of it – I am sad for my Monday, and I really wish I was just going to work instead. This is going to suck.

I’m also planning on going to the clinic to beg for more crazy pills and steroids, to the bank to give them a wad of cash that I would much rather put towards awesome things, and I was woken up by jackhammers outside my window again.

Who wants to trade Mondays?