Monday Musings – Smart Phones

Does anyone else think Smart Phones are getting TOO smart? They’re almost replacing the need for common sense…and they certainly have revolutionized the way we do things. You don’t go a whole work day without talking to your spouse/family, you don’t carry an address book or quarter for the payphone, and reunions are rarely surprises because you’ve seen everything on FB already. Oh, and when was the last time you had to go more than a couple hours wondering about if Penguins have knees? Or whether that lump on your tongue is normal? Or if Bran.gelia is really getting a divorce? Because – let’s be honest – we just goog.le that shit as soon as it pops into our heads.

So recently I had an experience that made me wonder how much my smart phone REALLY knows about me…

I saw a thing on FB that said to type in “This Christmas, I want a …” and select the middle suggestion. I decided to try it, fully thinking it would say puppy or goats or watermelon cake or coffee or Taylor Kin.ney (goo.gle him, it’s worth it) since that is what I am always texting about and I believed it was based on your most texted words.

This is what I got, instead:

screenshot

I was torn between surprise, and then sadness and then embarrassment because, really, how awkward if I were to post it and get all the questions (or worse, radio silence). For real, though, I hardly use that word on my cell phone so why did it pick THAT word? There were thousands to select and it picked that ONE word. These random moments where I am having a good time, and then infertility comes up and slaps me in the face still bring me to my knees.

I recovered quickly though, and selected “Dog” instead (because no one will know anyway) and then enjoyed the comments of exasperation from my friends and family that the LAST thing I need for Christmas is a dog since I already have three and a bunch of other pets. (But, for reals, there is no such thing as TOO MANY dogs. There just isn’t.).

Monday Musings!

It’s Gastro season. Yep, it’s an entire season…trust me, I work at a Hospital – I know.

For those of you who don’t know – I have OCD. Not the kind that people claim to have because they like to fold their underwear and arrange their books from short to tall…but the real, debilitating, potentially life ruining kind. It’s much more traumatic and life changing than the fads of “Omg, I am sooo OCD” allow you to understand…and it is a life time illness. It will wax and wane with the stressors in my life, and morph into other things every chance it gets. It’s a constant battle that I will always fight -and while I would never choose it if I had the option, I am learning to work with it. After all, I am a mostly functioning adult with a University degree, successful career and healthy marriage – so that must count for something. The fact that my compulsions center (mostly) around hygiene and germs, and I work in a Hospital, is both immensely stressful and hugely therapeutic. I continue to work here despite the ability to switch into other roles because I know it will make me stronger in the long run.

Having said that – the approach of Gastro season has me all in a flurry. This is my most dreaded season – and I hate that it corresponds with Christmas (the very best season). There is nothing in the world that can protect me from Gastro season and the pure terror/dread it instills in me – I will spend the majority of this season compulsively washing my poor hands and avoiding any and all human or other contact that may be contaminated. I know how ridiculous it all sounds, but it is very real and completely uncontrollable for me…so all I can do is buckle down and go along for the ride….and pray I come out on the other side – healthy and in one piece. Beans has already had gastro once and I managed to avoid it (I think I aged a few years in the process, though)…I’m just praying that I can make it through the rest of the season relatively unscathed and mostly sane. Many, many, MANY times I have wished I could trade OCD for something else – something less “insane” for lack of a better term, but the older I get the more I realize we all have our things – and mine isn’t any better or worse than anyone else’s. Just different.

So there you have it, the truth. Hopefully we can still be friends even though I am constantly on the brink of shuffling around in a bathrobe wearing gloves and a mask occasionally mentally unwell and slightly quirky. Cross your fingers that I make it through this season without losing all my marbles!

How do you get through virus season? Does the idea of it fill you with dread, or do you roll with it?