Despite the before and after pictures, yesterday went very well. I think what wore me out was all the gadding about before the therapy, and the trip to the bank and the grocery store after. But the therapy itself was very productive and helpful. However the journey to and fro was almost more interesting then the therapy itself.
I am a notorious recluse. So any outing where I bump up against other humans is sometimes a mine field for me. I don't like people much in the abstract, but I do run into people I like instantly, like the three sisters who run the gas station where I got my fill-up. These are three of the funniest, warmest women I've ever met at a gas station. I will now never get my gas anywhere else. They have made a loyal customer.
I was washing the 8 yards of thick fabric I cover my couch with at the laundry across the street from the gas station. So while my fabric was washing I went next door to fill my gas tank. I pulled up to the pump I wanted and discovered my tank was on the other side of the car. I repositioned the car and found the pump was out of order. So after three tries I got pulled up to a working pump, then I couldn't find the release for the cover of my gas cap. I know this sounds ridiculous, but I bought this vehicle last summer from a neighbor and I drive so little (and even then don't go very far) I have only put gas in the car twice before, and each time had to get some guy to show me where the gas cover release is. It's embarrassing. After about five minutes of searching I finally figured that out. Then I put the chosen nozzle in the tank and couldn't figure out how to start the pump. I spent five minutes trying, then headed into the store thinking that maybe I had to pay before I could pump. I usually hate to ask men to help me since I don't like to see myself as an idiot woman who can't do anything for herself, so I was expecting some young man to be manning the cash register who would give me that look that says, "idiot old woman", but instead I was greeted by three women who were in the midst of a jocular banter with one another. Turns out they are the women who run the place and were cheerful about giving me the gas pumping tutorial. Then while I was pumping gas, two of the sisters were leaning against the building smoking. So when I finished filling the tank and washing the filthy windows, and emptying the ashtray, I walked over to thank them and ask if I could take their picture. They cheerfully agreed. The photo above is of me and one of the smiling jocular sisters. I'll never buy gas at another station. That's what cheerful customer service gets you--loyal customers.
This is the first time I've taken my camera with me on an outing. I have a fairly large digital camera and it's not like whipping out a cellphone with a built-in camera. And then I have to carry its case slung over my shoulder along with my purse. But yesterday I wanted to take pictures of the Valley Mental Health facility where the Masters Program (for bipolar patients over fifty) is located. But carrying your camera around with you makes you want to take pictures of almost everything. I'll link to Picasa and post these photos of the commercial district in my area called Sugarhouse and then south to Valley Mental Health. Later when my head clears and I've had my second cup of coffee, I'll tell you all about the hour and a half session with my therapist and the half hour with my psychiatrist. All good. No medication changes.
Here are the photos I took of my trip to get my head shrunk.
