Because I said "asshole" to my therapist, and now I'm worried he won't like me anymore; and that's totally normal, right?

Stress and anxiety are weird, and, in my case, often irrational.

For instance, I stressed out for half the day wondering whether Wal-Mart was going to give the red curtains we ordered to my husband because I ordered them in my name. The Web site has very strict-sounding rules about "Site-to-Store" orders.

I ordered "Site-to-Store" because the store is on Phusband's route home from work and it saved, like $5 shipping.

The curtains are for our son's big boy room. Exciting, I know.

Then, I started thinking about what assholes the Wal-Mart store employees would be if they didn't give my husband the curtains. After all, I ordered the curtains with his debit card, which has his name on it. Plus, we're married and have the same last name.

What sticklers. Who are they to play God, deciding who gets to pick up the curtains? I thought this was a family friendly store.

It's not like he's trying to steal curtains, Wal-Mart! Gaaawwwd.

After reviewing the "it's here; come pick it up" e-mail for the 14th time, stressing about whether Phubby could acquire the cute red curtains I really, really want to hang in our son's room tonight, I decided I would just go pick them up if he couldn't get them.

I felt pretty guilty about wasting his time, especially since I didn't even mention that he could get rejected by Wal-Mart or possibly be accused of stealing site-to-store orders and harassed by store security.

What if they called the town police? I wrote enough police briefs for the newspaper to know that Wal-Mart does not screw around with shoplifters. They will prosecute your ass for a stolen jelly bean.


I'm sure the case would be thrown out of court, but how I'd hate to explain to my editors why my husband showed up in the police news releases for alleged Attempted Theft Under $500 (that would be the charge, but if I were writing the brief, I'd change "under" to "less than").


Then there would be a court date and embarrassment and days off work, all because I asked him to pick up curtains on his way home.

The 15th time I read the "it's here; come get it" e-mail, I noticed I had the option to edit/add pick-up person(s). I added his name. I felt better.

Briefly.

Then, I started to worry that there would be a 24-hour wait for the store to get the information about the existence of another pick-up person.

Finally, Phusband called me for the order number. I gave it to him. He hasn't called again, so I assume he acquired the curtains.

Of course he did. Because who would fucking steal four lined, red canvas, 84" curtains, likely only suitable for a child's room, ordered site-to store? They don't even sell well enough to keep in stock.


I think I might worry too much.

Next post will either be about how I said "asshole" to my therapist (but didn't call him an asshole) and now am afraid to see him again OR about how I embarrass myself with the inappropriate things I say to my parents.

Update: Phubby is home, with curtains. (For a minute, I was worried there were only three curtains, but all four are there. Phubby is hanging them now. I'm going to go help.

Edit: I'm changing the publication time of this post so it's buried under the last post. That's how pointless this post is. When you compare it to the worthlessness of everything else I've written here, it's obvious I am a poor manager of time.