There is Strength in Numbers, or, Misery Loves Company...Dealer's Choice

I had a brief but comforting phone call from my sister Barbie earlier today, and, while I am still dealing with all of the mental and emotional turmoil of Hormones Gone Wrong (awesome band name, feel free to steal), I was somewhat mollified by the fact that she is suffering from almost the exact same issues. Now, don't get me wrong; I don't wish this shit on anybody, least of all my favorite baby sister, but, I gotta admit, if I got to be in this, I'm really happy to learn that I'm not alone.

Also, the chance that we are both going crazy is statistically low, given our familial history, so, the likelihood that hormones are, indeed, solely to blame for this awesome shit show is hugely comforting. Hormones, we can wrest into compliance with the proper medical protocols, I mean, right? Tell me I'm right (pleaseohpleaseohpleaseohplease).

On the bright side, I had a marginally better day at work today. There is a slight possibility that the people who hired me actually knew what they were doing. Also, the automatic car wash is a really great place to gather one's thoughts and to practice intentional breathing techniques outside of prying eyes.

Thank God Hugh purchased a monthly unlimited wash package.