Yelling at the Universe

Posted on March 4, 2004 in Anger Sugar and Fat

Sometimes the only thing you can yell at is the Universe.

We spent weeks combing the house for my blood sugar kit. No sign of the blood sucking electronic medallion anywhere. We checked the truck, the dining room table (which has more layers than the Grand Canyon when we’ve been active), the loft, the couch, the big red chair in the living room, the desk in the office where I am typing this, the side of the bed, under the bed, on the ceilings, behind the toilet, — the house looked like the residence of the widow who lost her mite — and there is no sign of the monitor anywhere.

So I ask my doctor to write a prescription for a new one. He does. Tuesday night, I bring it home, put it on the kitchen table and go into the office. Something falls off the back of the extra chair, so I move it and there is the black case of the old blood sugar monitor.

I stormed down the hall, crying:

“Christ-god-darn-fucking-dammit-mother-farking-shitcakes!”

“What?” asked Lynn from the loft.

“I just found the other blood sugar monitor!” I said. “Don’t worry. I’m venting at the Universe.” There’s no explaining WHY it does things like that to me.

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When I find my glasses knocked to the floor, there’s only one explanation: Fifi.