Today, August 23, I had the day perfectly planned out. The plans are not much, but I already imagined how and when to execute them. But there are things I can’t control, and they end up scrambling those few yet important plans. (Important to me, at least.)
And I’m pissed.
After my Friday night ritual (which involves The Devil’s Cup, my laptop, my journal system, and my music player), I slept later than usual. That’s my usual kickoff to the weekend. Why not? Anyway, I got enough sleep, and then I prepared to go to my dermatology checkup with my Younger Brother and my cousin.
I arrived at the clinic, and when I applied for an LOA from my HMO provider, I was told that I couldn’t use my health card at that time. I can’t disclose the details behind that, but all I can say is that after waking up early on a Saturday for my dermatologist, I’m pissed. And it’s not even my doctor’s fault.
Actually, last week was supposed to be my checkup, but I had to reschedule due to an emergency my doctor had to attend to. I understand that. But today’s cancellation of my checkup is something else. I’m pissed that it was cancelled because of things I can’t control, and I can’t even reach out to my HMO provider today to start remedying the problem. (They’re closed during weekends.) Waking up earlier today seems like a waste, and skincare is important to me. I’m really pissed.
What were my other plans, by the way? I was supposed to try a chicken mushroom pesto panini from Go! Salads (one of my favorite salad bars) while I waited for my turn at the clinic. After the checkup, I wanted to explore a cafe I’m not familiar with, try a new drink, and then update my journal system. I did try the chicken mushroom pesto panini (which is a different kind of tasty compared to my go-to panini, the chicken chorizo), and it helped me cool my head off momentarily.
After consuming that lovely panini, I waited for Younger Brother and cousin to finish their appointments, we went home, and I took a two-hour nap after dinner. Now I’m writing about how frustrated I am. If it weren’t for that late lunch, if I didn’t have company with me, and if I didn’t have my gadgets to distract me, the frustration I have would have been different. (Unhealthy, even.) Still, I’m pissed.
Now let me close this rant by sounding off: fuck this shit.
Ω
The Diary of The Deranged Writer 