It's been a very long day.
Wake up early, pry the cat from the top of my head (this morning, she was actually combing through my hair with her paws. This needs to stop.), toddle off to the shower, dress for this once-again freakishly warm late September day, scurry to work.
Once the apartment door clicks locked behind me, remember that my lunch and snacks are still waiting patiently on the kitchen counter. Fumble with my janitor-worthy set of keys, grab the sandwich, cucumber slices, tupperware of green beans, and the Balance bar off the counter and shove it all into the depths of my purse.
Drive to work. Sing loudly in the car as I wait at the stoplight, only to notice that a co-worker is behind me. Pretend to be yawning. Blush furiously. Upon arriving in the parking lot, ask co-worker if she saw me singing my lungs out. She nods no. Blush subsides.
Work is a whirlwind of articles, columns, Blogabetes, Photoshop fun, iced coffee, a random fashion show (please, don't ask), a visit from a co-worker's adorable trio of little kids, and emails. Lots and lots of emails.
Stress is at a solid high, but my blood sugars aren't reflecting it. For some reason, blood sugars are remaining well-behaved, playing gin rummy and occasionally complaining about the heat.
Come home. Hug fiance. Change clothes and head off to the gym. Workout hard. Blood sugars still behaving, hovering around 170 mg/dl despite the amped up cardio and the no-breaks weight routine.
Shower. Make a delicious chicken and vegetable soup. Add way too much salt. Add more broth to counter against the salt. Now there is too much broth. Cut up more chicken and vegetables. Add in and watch as the pot almost overflows. Soup is now in two pots and could feed an army of soup-eaters. (No creativity there, sorry.) As soup is cooking, go to office and set up the blood glucose meter on my desk. Prick finger. Squeeze gently.
Watch in horror as a huge stream of blood spurts from my teeny little fingerprick and hit me in the throat. Throat warm. Stomach not pleased with this turn of events and starts to turn a bit. For some reason, keep squeezing?
"Oh for crying out loud."
"What?" Chris doesn't look up from his laptop, where he is writing an article.
"Does it look like someone tried to murder me?"
He stops and looks over. "Oh man."
Clean off throat in bathroom. Realize even when blood sugar numbers aren't being intrusive, sometimes just the darn blood is.
Write blog post.
Cat climbs on head.