So, some of you who know me know I have a lil' problem with not handling adrenaline very well. I'm from a long line of *really* grouchy people, and it's no secret some family members have done stints in places euphemistically termed "nervous hospitals"... one uncle for shooting and killing a man who'd insulted his wife. He spent two years in the "nervous hospital" and was released. The court was lenient because, in true family fashion, this uncle had waited patiently outside the church for the man to come out. He'd given the man time to "get right with the Lord" before exacting his revenge. You just don't mess with that kind of crazy.
Fast forward a few generations, to my kind of crazy, having a meltdown in the parking lot of Circuit City. I'd just had my hand forced (by the overlords of Am Ex, MC, and Visa) to purchase a shop computer and in the aftermath, whilst loading the kids back into the car, it hit me like a ton of bricks. Payments. More. Payments. And I still had to cough/gag/spew up the cash for the 'point-of-sale' hard and software. More. Payments. Actually, just two payments, because apparently spending almost 25 c-notes doesn't qualify as something you might want to, you know, pace yourself with.
The upside to this 'tale of woe' is two-fold: first, in the midst of all the chaos and confusion, I managed to get merchant status with AmEx and Visa/Mastercard... in one day... in a span of two hours, actually (the heavens smile down upon me) and second, I put on one helluva show in the parking lot. I could Not. Stop. Blubbing. I couldn't even breathe. It was like someone reached into my throat and turned my lungs inside out. Like being crushed and suffocated at the same time. All I could do was sit in the car, sobbing and shaking, trying to get a grip, for cryin' out loud, only to have that grip broken by another wave of panic and body-wracking sobs. I believe the technical term is "hysterical". Bill/Boris sat patiently until I was cried out... I did notice a smirk and a stifled chortle at the tail end... you know, when I attempted to 'explain' why buying a computer had me so devastated. (Really, it's the POS software that felt the most like getting bent over... tough to take for a little control freak like me.)
At the end of each day I try to show/tell myself what self and I got done. This little exercise is what got me through five bouts of post-partum depression without tossing anyone out a window. Some days, the 'sucked away days', all I had to show for my effort was that we were all still alive. Other days were deemed 'good' because I finished a sock, or made a few quilt blocks, or even just tossed out the slimy celery from the fridge. Today was seeming like a sucked away day because I was focused on the big, scary picture, but as I type this, it wasn't a total washout. I now take all major credit cards... and I have a cool scanny-thing and a cash drawer coming, too.