Monday

I think we should all be glad that I'm returning to full-time, all day work soon. On Wednesday, not only was I looking forward to watching all of "General Hospital," but I also squealed with joy during one of the big reveals. Yep, I squealed. Now, I have always had a problem with excessive clapping. (You know, I clap when they sing "Happy Birthday" in a restaurant whether I'm at the table with the celebrants or not, and last year I had a particularly embarrassing moment when I clapped during the televised Emmys after Megan Mullally and Donald Trump sang the theme song to "Green Acres." Does anyone clap while watching an awards show on television? Apparently, I do. And, of all things, was the Trump/Mullally musical number worth a round of applause even if I had been in the audience? I think not.) But, I have never had an issue with girly, out-loud squealing (post the age of 12 when it was time for someone to call a boy on the phone during a sleepover) until now. I really don't think I should be this invested in who the father of Elizabeth Spencer's baby is. And, right now, it has been ten minutes since "Family Feud" ended, and I'm still bothered that Rick lost $20,000 for his family by responding to the "name a playful animal" prompt with "beaver." Beaver? Seriously? I may be a clapping, soap-opera-loving freak, but I still wouldn't say "beaver" on national television unless it was absolutely necessary. And, I certainly wouldn't say it when I was 13 points away from the big money. (Really, it's going to be good when I go back to work and these aren't the primary issues that plague my day.)