Today is Monday. I hate Mondays, but not for the reason most people may think. On three Mondays out of the month, I have after school activities that I absolutely love. And plus, I have all my classes on Mondays (usually I have three long period classes a day). So that means there's usually a lot of homework. I'm just usually a grump on Mondays because I'm always so freaking busy.
This weekend, I had my diaversary party on Friday. It was the most fun thing in a long time, and it was completely worth it. I had a great time, and I can't believe that it's been fifteen years since I was diagnosed, and I'm only sixteen. So that was Friday night. And my friend Aquene slept over, and it was so much fun :) We're insanely weird.
So Saturday morning after bringing her back to school (because she lives there) I sat on my ass, and ate cake. That's literally all I did. I ate cake, brisket, and a microwave burrito, and watched movies. It was probably the single most unproductive day in sixteen years. Like, seriously. At about 11:30pm, SNL with Seth Macfarlane was on, and I flipped my burgers. I love Seth Macfarlane, and I love SNL, so it was pretty much the best thing ever. I also decided that doing my lab report at midnight on Saturday/Sunday was a fantastic idea. So I did a bunch of my lab report, and that was done. I also made that video, and posted it before going to bed at around 3am.
Got up at 8ish, and did my homework. Now, when I say I "did my homework" read that I "did the bare minimum of homework to be able to get through class on Monday."Which made sense, because I had to shower and we were going to see family later that afternoon. Which was awesome. My cousin Max is four and a half months old, and he's so adorable. I love that kid to pieces.
He is just such a cutie :) But we saw him, as well as other family, and it was just such a good day. So it was completely and totally worth it. But there's one thing I didn't have a chance to do this weekend. And that's laundry.
Now I'm gonna come right out and say I'm freaking insane. I am VERY particular about how my laundry is done. I actually take some small amount of joy out of doing laundry. I'm THAT weird. Like seriously. I wash things particularly. Some stuff gets fabric softener, some doesn't ever get it, and some only gets fabric softener of a certain smell. I fold them in a certain way, too. When my mother decides to be "helpful" (read: OCD) and fold everything, and come and put everything in my room, I freak. I mean, legitimately freak. "WHY ARE YOU PUTTING MY LAUNDRY AWAY?! WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU!? I'VE TOLD YOU A MILLION TIMES JUST LET ME DO IT!"
Most normal, properly functioning people would just let it happen. They would be like, whatever, she's doing it. I'll do it next time. Not me. I have to do it all, from start to finish. My closet is color organized by sleeve length for crying out loud. You'd think she'd just leave it alone. But tonight, she did my laundry. I was planning on doing it myself, but she just jumped on it before I had the chance to. And even though I had a shit-ton of homework (yes, a shit-ton. It's an actual unit of measurement in my universe), I wanted to do it myself. I would've stayed up until 3am again just to be able to do it myself. I am just so particular about that one thing, and my insanity got the best of me.
And after I had cooled down a little, I saw this tiny, little bump in my blood sugars. It wasn't something like, I went from 125 to 434 in two minutes flat. I went from about 100 to 140 in fifteen minutes, and then in another thirty, after I had cooled down, I was back down to around 110. I just had to laugh at myself, because who the hell gets that worked up over laundry?!
And then in comes the ex-boyfriend. I really would prefer he didn't talk to me. After all, he's kind of the world's biggest toolbox, and if I ever see him in the flesh, someone is going to need to tazer me because I am about 99% sure I would walk right up to him and smack him across his face. Nothing against his face, just him. And he knows I really want him to spontaneously combust, or for gravity to stop working just especially for him. I really wish he'd respect that. Like, at this point, it's not even an issue of him talking to me, it's just the flat out disrespect he has for my feelings. But whatever, he's a toolbox.
He contacted me today, and I'm pretty sure if I didn't have the fan blowing in my room I would've singed the sheets. He just makes my blood boil. And my sugar did a really sharp spike when he talked to me. LIKE I REALLY NEEDED THAT. I was cruising nicely at 132 (I checked Bentley before I checked my facebook mail) and about 10 minutes later, I was 263! Which, naturally made me even more mad. So I sort of rage bolused. I put the number into the bolus wizard, and so it was a correctly calculated rage bolus, but it could've taken care of itself like the rage bump earlier in the evening, then I would've been up a creek without a paddle. And that's always awesome.
Anyways, that was my Monday. I maintain that Monday's suck. My favorite days of the week are Wednesdays and Saturdays because Jenna Marbles makes videos on Wednesdays, and Katelyn and I skype every Wednesday to watch them together. Saturdays because I can sleep in nice and late, and stay up really late as well. It's just something I like to do, like most teenagers.
Have a great week everyone! I'll see you later this week. I'll post about something happy, too. Maybe I'll even do a cooking video this weekend. Or one of me changing my sensor. Weeeeeeeee!
Much love,
Alexa
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