Mood: /me shrugs shoulders and says "Eh."
Music: Anything but gospel.
Mind: Would like to sleep for days. Depression is depressing, dangit.

Well, I'm stuck at Paul's work. Okay, I'm not really stuck, because I have my own car here and I can leave at anytime. But for real, where would I go. Apparently, tonight is a good night to drink a bit. I think it might calm me down. I'm a bundle of nerves.

I really thought that things would calm down once Mandi's wedding was over. No more luncheons, showers, etc. But now I have to contend with my own wedding. I've got to get a bridal book and some index cards ASAP. Also, I need to do laundry. And thank-you notes are piling up with another shower on Friday. Not to mention, I've got to pick up my dress at Low's (in Arkansas! An hour and a half from Memphis!) on Thursday at 3pm.

Dad said to take the week to relax. That's humorous, considering I start a short summer session of school next week. I have 101 tasks at hand without even worrying about seventeen days of el espanol. Me no divierten. I am not amused.

There are a few bright spots in the black hole of near-graduation. Among them: Destination Honeymoon.

Apparently, Walt Disney World is heaven on earth. That's at least what I keep telling myself.

For nearly $3,000, Paul and I will be wined and dined sans payment at the Port Orleans resort near Epcot and Downtown Disney. We get cool stuff like watches and pins and lanyards and a photo session in the park of our choice. We also get to eat anywhere we want (Read: Narcoosee's, Vicky 'n' Al's, Shula's, etc.) for free.

Well, it's not free. It cost $3,000. But we won't have to carry any cashola with us.

And we get lanyards. Yay.

Seriously, this is shaping up to be one helluva vacation. I've memorized the dates of each surprise morning (July 21, 2002: Disney-MGM Studios. July 22, 2002: Magic Kingdom. July 23, 2002: Epcot.). I've strategized how to get from hotel to boat to monorail to park to monorail to boat to hotel. And I've even called to make our reservations for July 21 at the Hoop-Dee-Doo Musical Revue. All the vaudeville and cookin' you can handle for $46 a person.

But for us it's (kinda/sorta/not really) free!

And if that's not enough, our hotel, the Port Orleans-Riverside (formerly Dixie Landings, according to DisneyWorld.com) backs up to a three-acre island with "fully stocked fishing hole." We theorize that the hole is actually tests the aptitude of both fish and fisherman. (A) Fisherman must locate, cast and enter hole. (B) Fish must be smart enough to realize hole=death, and thus should be avoided at all cost, even if the rubbery red wormy-thing looks damn good.

Okay, so we knew what it meant, but it gave me a good laugh anyway, which made my jaw hurt because I had two fillings on the left side of my mouth this afternoon. Providence, indeed.

Speaking of the almighty hand of irony (Ironic, no?) ...

I lost my favorite doctor a few months ago. He disappeared, and I was sad. It wasn't as if I physically lost him, as he is a rather large man who rivals Paul in height. But he left the family practice I used. And that was a damn shame, yes. He was the only person who was accurate in diagnosing everything from a sinus infection to a broken foot. I know because he diagnosed me with both. He even caught a respiratory flu that was missed by two other doctors.

Anybody in Memphis who needs a doctor, look up Daniel J. Scott. But don't look for him at Family Physicians Group. Because he's gone. That should have been my indication to ditch the place also.

He listens to patients. I have since been to three (count 'em: One, Two Three) doctors who refuse to switch me from BuSpar to Effexor for anxiety relief. BuSpar makes me very nauseated. My heart rate goes up. I have to lie down. The room spins. And I'm supposed to be taking this twice a day! He would change it, because he has common sense. Apparently, this is why he is no longer with Family Physicians Group. NOBODY there has any common sense at all.

I remember one time seeing two doctors on different occasions who told me I was fine based on listening to my heartbeat and looking up my nose. After Dr. Scott ran tests, it was discovered I had a very bad strep infection in my throat that had been neglected so long it had spread to my mucus membranes, nose, eyes and ears. I also had two ear infection and a sinus infection that had spread into my chest. Needless to say, my new heroes were Dr. Scott and a week's worth of Zithromax. :)

Okay -- the point of me digressing was to tell what a great doc he was. So I had to deal with these dumb fillings at the dentist today. And when I left, I was feeling rather woozy because I hadn't eaten in 12 hours. So I knew I had to find an ATM and a place where I could buy a milkshake. (I couldn't yet swallow solid food because of my jaw.)

Now, normally, I take a right turn out of the dentist's office onto Navy Road in Millington, Tenn. (Yes, I drive half an hour to go to the dentist, because it's the same dentist my grandparents AND my parents have gone to since the '50s.) Instead of turning onto Navy Road, I turned onto Easley Street today to find a bank. And lo and behold! A mere 200 yards from my dentist's office, Dr. Scott has opened his own practice.

I bet my $15 co-pay that there are no stupid doctors there.

Anyway, I've rambled on long enough. Capiche? Capiche.

Stay good, drop me an e-mail, congratulate me on my good grades (see post below this). And most of all, make sure your ducks are in a row when you pick out your honeymoon and when you pick out your doctor. Those are two of the most random important decisions you'll ever face.

Peace out, kids.