I had a meeting on Friday at work with people I was hoping to convince that I am an actual grown-up, capable of like, you know, managing people and projects with flair and grace. It was Friday, so I didn't want to overdo it, so I busted out my new(ish) denim trousers (trousers, but denim, fancy, but casual) and a white sweater set I got at Target a zillion years ago. I got through the meeting and the day without spilling anything on myself, blowing my top at my boss, or crying. Then went to therapy appointment #2.
I got there early. Turns out that was entirely pointless, since she was 20 minutes late for my appointment. Lady, I got a life, and you are starting to interfere with it. So, I was already a bit annoyed when I walked into her office and discovered that her two yappy little dogs were there. Again.
The dogs were there for the first appointment too, but she explained it as a special treat for them, they went to the vet that day, yadda, yadda, yadda. So, I was a bit surprised when yappy little dogs were there again. Whatever. I'm not really fond of yappy little dogs, but it does make the conversation seem more like its happening in someone's living room, rather than in someone's office.
I sit down on the chair and yappy poddle-type dog with eye-boogers jumped up. Ok. I'll go with it. I can cuddle a gross yappy dog while pouring my heart out.
Two seconds later, my sweater was covered in liquidy, reddish dog puke.
I don't really believe in signs, but, hello? Is someone trying to tell me something?
Therapist was truly apologetic, and told me to send her the cleaning bill. But, I spent the first several minutes of my appointment cleaning off my sweater, instead of concentrating on me. Its a good thing it was a sweater set - otherwise I would have been sitting there in my bra.
Which, maybe would have worked out. At the end of the session, Therapist told me that she knows I'm going to have someone great come into my life soon. And that "people have fallen in love right in my waiting room!" My response? "Seriously? Don't you think I'm already making enough poor choices in men without meeting someone at therapy?" Sheesh.
Not to prolong the point, but she also thought that the circa late 1970's mini-series The Thornbirds would resonate with me; and went on to explain the plot, in full detail. Something about Australia, and a priest, and a bastard baby, and a woman filled with regrets. Fine, ok. I understand that sometimes watching a good movie can be therapeutic, but if I want movie recommendations, I'll ask a friend. And I won't have to pay a $20 co-pay.
So, you might imagine that I didn't get very much out of this particular appointment. Or the one before it. My next appointment isn't for three weeks and I suspect that by that time, I'm going to have lost interest in this whole ordeal.