Self-fulfilling stupidity

I wonder what it is about me that requires me to make things worse. I could understand if my problems were all externally related. Like if I had some sort of stress or work related problems that were causing my special brand of fruitcake.

But the truth is, I bring most of it on myself. For instance, last night I sat down to take my blood pressure. Every time I do this, its done with the intention of being calm. Of course, trying to be calm makes me anxious. And then I get anxious about being anxious.

So, to take my mind off of being anxious about being anxious I try to occupy myself by reading the paper. So instead of reading the sports, I flip to the obituaries. Technically I don't flip right to them. I fake myself into thinking I'm going to pass them and then I page flip until I get to them, glance at the ages of the dead people (to look for 31 year olds), decide whether I should be concerned, and then flip through the rest of the paper. The only other stop I make is at the 3D picture thing in the comics.

This adds a level of rage to my anxiety cause I can't see the F&*^^%N thing. After all this, I take my BP and its a little high. Imagine that.

I swear, I'm going to invent a machine that will sneak up on you and take your blood pressure. Possibly using chloroform or some blunt instrument to distract you.