Looked down as the sun came out at just the right angle to illuminate … how filthy my Roomba has gotten. The surface is all dusty, and there’s cat hairs on the buttons.
That’s right, my cleaning implement needs to be cleaned.
Whatchoo got?
This week, all my worst moments- filled with anxiety, frustration, and a good dash of hopelessness- have been the times I’ve spent dealing with my (was-supposed-to-be) therapist and my (will-be-if-I-can’t-find-someone-better) psychiatrist’s office.
Also, finding and getting an appointment with a therapist/psychiatrist in general and dealing with these two in particular (separate offices, both terrible) has been, by a vast, vast margin, the most difficult thing and required the most motivation, diligence, commitment, patience, creativity, etc. of any of the healthcare providers I’ve interacted with. Those being things I struggle a lot with, given… you know… the depression and anxiety for which I’m looking for help.
Ah, yes, anxiety + depression. Such a fun combo. Someone asked me rather snottily once if the two don’t cancel each other out. My reply?
“Do Red Bull and vodka cancel each other out?”
I don’t mean to sound flippant. I know you’ve got a tremendous amount on your plate. Sorry the “help” isn’t being helpful.
I bought a 4WD vehicle to use for skiing when the roads are covered in snow (my last one broke). I’m having trouble scheduling a day to pick it up, because…
…There is too much snow between me and it!
It takes so much strength to even start the search for a new mental health professional. I know it can be unbelievably hard when you run into obstacles while trying to get help. And when the obstacle is the therapist themselves… Ugh.
The cat I got (in part) in hopes of keeping the rodent population at bay has been bringing mice home through her pet door and setting them free indoors. Causing me to have to go buy cat-safe traps.
Okay, that’s a good one!
yeah
Not really irony I guess, but I had to change the belt on my upright vacuum the other day and well, the insides where of course a mess. Trying to keep from creating a bigger mess, I grabbed a dustbuster and vacuumed my vacuum.
It’s turtles all the way down.
I was just reminded in another thread of a recent one - I got a bad papercut at work while pinning up the new L&I poster which tells you how to report workplace accidents.
I don’t know if this is the kind of “irony” story you’re looking for (and I may have mentioned it before) but it was one of life’s little pleasures that warms my heart.
Back when I lived in the Big City, I got a notice of overdue property taxes. I was already in a foul mood that day and that just made it worse, but I figured I may as well drive down to the regional city office and pay the damn thing. Those of you who drive in Big Cities know what a hassle parking always is. I did manage to find one metered parking spot on the street. Since I was just going to run in and give the bastards their several thousand dollars of blood money and run right out again, and was already in a pissy mood, I wasn’t about to contribute even more to the bastards’ wealth by putting money into the parking meter.
When I came out a few minutes later, one of those parking-enforcement fuckers was already writing out a ticket. He saw me coming but continued to quickly finish it off and stick it behind the windshield wiper. I was right there by that time – he could have just handed it to me, or a decent person would have just canceled it. But not this asshole.
I just lost it, and really out of character for me, I yanked it off the windshield and tore it up in front of his face. After looking amazed for a second, he just said, “you’ve just doubled it”. I was going to throw them on the ground but I had the presence of mind to not want to be further accused of littering, so I shoved the pieces in my jacket pocket and drove off.
When I got home, for some reason I was curious to look at the remains, possibly to see what the fine was, which would indeed be considerably greater when the followup letter arrived for non-payment. And lo and behold, in his haste to complete the ticket-writing, the asshole had got my license number wrong. Naturally, I never heard any more about it.
Nor did anyone else get into trouble, because IIRC the ticket contains a description of the vehicle, so whoever had that plate number would just have had to point out that it was clearly a mistake, because they owned no such vehicle.
I still celebrate this as The Day that Justice Was Done.
Irony was being unable to find my glow-in-the-dark pipe the other night, and only locating it the next day, once I could see it in the harsh morning sunlight.
This may be a little off track (and I bet it has been pointed out before on these boards) but it is a delicious irony: The latest anti-vaxxer nonsense is that one or other of the “vaccines” contains a microchip so that, once injected, the government will be able to track you. They share this wisdom on social media using their mobile phones which…
j
…of course makes them eminently trackable.
Years ago my dad crashed into a brick wall in a parking lot of a small business. Intense enough to trigger the air bag. Nobody’s fault but his own, he simply did not see the 4-foot wall. The business? An optometrist. Dad was going there to have his eyes examined.