It's not the distance

Okay, it *totally is* the distance.

I know it's not that far.  Because in a pre-pregnant state I can walk there in under 20 minutes, so it's probably only a kilometer - which is less than a mile.  In fact, it's probably only a quarter mile 'cause it's like three New York blocks or something.  That's like once around the track (this refers to my high school which has a track that is a quarter mile round - I'm telling you this because it occurred to me y'all might not have gone to my high school).  It's not that far.

Except I've already walked it once today.

And I'm carrying a small angry beast inside of me, one that is head-butting my cervix and clawing at my uterus with its little hands and kicking my diaphragm with its little feet.

The "it" I must walk to is the citizen service at the county/city hall.

Because of this NemID thing that I've talked about.

The borgerservice (citizen service) is only open when a virgin slaughters a unicorn during the second full moon of the month (or you know,  M, Tu, Th, F from 9-12 [possibly] and Th afternoons from 2:30 to some unknown time).  I thought it opened on Thursday at 1:30, so I walked up there after Danish class.  But NO, *I* was thinking of the pharmacy, which also closes for a lengthy lunch break at the same time that everyone else takes a lunch break and runs out to buy things in the pharmacy.  I was an hour early.  So I went home, totally forgetting to write down when the blasted place is open.  That's okay, I has the intertoobs!  I tried to see when the opening hours are by going to the website.  But the page that gives you times and phone numbers is ERROR 404, which means it's been eaten by a bear, so I'm just going to have to take my butt up there again to see if it's open now.

Frak that!  I figure... it's cold.  It's going to snow.  I am going to drive.

Only I can't get the car unlocked.

*hangs head and sobs quietly in the car port*

Back inside.  Ring to husband to complain about the inequity of life.

Get hung up on because DB is in an interview.

Try to blame the cat.  Fail miserably.

I tried to psyche myself up "come on girl, it's not far, just walk slowly and steadily and you'll get there and you'll deal with this crap and it'll be out of your hair and you'll be so proud of yourself and then you can go back to the pharmacy, which will be open and you can buy cotton swabs and more of that genius antacid and then waddle home and you can even take a bath or something equally awesome."

But my hips are done for the day.  And the Spawn hasn't stopped moving for about an hour (sleep DAMN YOU).  And I am not walking up there if there is the slightest chance it will be closed because I just don't think I could take that kind of rejection.

Just about everyone on the planet has bigger problems than me today... however, I think I'm just going to curl up here on the couch, cover my head with a blanket and throw myself a little pity party for one.