Ever get annoyed? Ever feel like someone needs to be told where the dog died? Or handed a crowbar and a tub of Elbow Grease to help them pry their head out of their arse? Congratulations--you've come to the right place.

And when I'm not commenting on the latest thing to piss me off, I'm trying to figure out my own twisted life. Because, hey, I'm like that.

On a gentler note: for anyone dealing with depression, anxiety, and other assorted bullshit: You are NOT alone.

And if you're looking for a laugh, search on the key word "fuckery." It's just my little thing (as the bishop said to the actress).

Wednesday, January 5, 2011

Ever Have One of THEM Days?

Today has not been the best of days.

The migraine started last night around 6ish, before I even left the office. I slept a lot last night--got home about 8ish, got into comfy sweats, and instead of making dinner, I took a nap for an hour and a half. The cat wasn't happy when I woke up, but hey, food was necessary. I managed to sleep another 9 hours, and woke up feeling like I had a family of gnomes inside my skull, trying to get out with hammers.

I called in. I am not going to increase my suffering unnecessarily.

Well, I woke up a few times after that, registered my pain level, and curled back up. This made Piddy very, very happy. She's old--she likes the extra warmth in the bed. The purring helps the headache, too.

The past few days have been stressful. I really didn't want to come back from PA. I can't tell you guys how much I miss having KJ in the same city; we had some damn good times back in the day, and during the bad times, there's no one better to have on your team. Plus the fact that Hayden is the bee's knees... I love that kid. He's too freakin' cool for words. I can even forgive him for waking us all at oh-dark-stupid because he's actually really sweet in the morning. I could handle sharing digs with the two of them; I would love to be helping to take care of him and raise him (I actually enjoy dealing with small boys--I think I've mentioned before how much I love small boy logic. "Because..." and the big eyes... :-). Plus, it would be helping her, and I'd be near another really good friend... *sigh* If I got back there before the 22nd, I could catch Eddie Ifft's show at the Rex in PGH, & would be closer to Jim's show in Jersey... And without the full-time job, there would be time to do other things. Like research agents, write query letters, the synopsis, and the sequel. And build the military jacket I've been designing in my head for the past six months... and the shrine projects, and altered art bits...


So I got back around 2ish on Sunday night--did the drive in seven hours with multiple stops (needed to pee a lot, for some reason; *shrugs* I'll blame being north of 40, but it was odd). I was also texting with Teacher Man who has mysteriously reappeared. Evidently, I was one of his big highlights of 2010. Who knew? His schedule is still mad, but we'll see. I'm hopeful, but not holding my breath. He's attractive, intelligent, funny, and we get into the same music. Plus, he teaches history. Perfect. But busy. And not looking for commitment. I'd be happy with regular sex and hanging out.

Monday... I did some stuff on Monday, culminating in spending two hours in the driveway, going through the 15-odd contractor bags taken out of the dining room & kitchen. I ended up bringing back in a full one and roughly ten reusable shopping bags (all taken out of the contractor bags) of stuff. Stuff like family photos. New hardcovers (like the latest Dresden Files novel that I haven't even read yet). Research. Papers--like my paper on King Lear and one of my philosophy papers on religion and the purpose thereof. Lots of Shakespeare articles. Brand new sewing supplies, still in sealed packages. An envelope--clear glassine envelope--of new postage stamps. Recipes. Including the annotated page on Guinness mac & cheese. Stuffed animals. Jewelry. A bag of groceries--BRAND NEW BAG of groceries, unopened, just brought into the house, all of it dry goods--intact, as it had been sitting in the dining room. A gorilla costume. The shawl Vicki made for me. Presents. Unopened Xmas cards. CDs. DVDs--Futurama, still in the plastic slipcase.

I could go on, but if I do, I may throw something, and I'm sitting in Sbux. It wouldn't be polite.

I spent Monday night not writing at the write-in at Andala, having a blast with Leesh, Tom, Steve & Emily, just chilling and hanging and laughing. I needed that so badly--I needed to be with others and just forget my stupid life. And then was up until 4 having an anxiety attack about returning to work.

Tuesday was OK. Fucked about on Twitter with the Haters Club (that's what I'm starting to call the little group of us writers who hate our jobs and post silly things to keep ourselves amused). Great to see Jaime--she is a rare gem of a human being.

In short, I was reminded of the good things about my life here.

And then today happened.

So, I'm lying in bed around 1ish, and I hear a banging on the front door. Dipshit answers the door--it's the cleaners, coming to help him. Well, the cleaners took a tour through the first floor and started discussing the house:
"Someone put up a Christmas tree."
"Must have been The Daughter."
"Look at this. All my work..."
"Is The Daughter home?
"Hey, Daughter, GO FUCK YOURSELF!"

At which point, from the front room, I say, "The Daughter IS here--I'm home dealing with a migraine."
I call their boss. After telling the story, he goes mental on me and reams me a new asshole--evidently, I am lying and not cooperating and he's going to do his job whether I like it or not.
He hangs up on me.
I sit there, my head throbbing, numb, in shock, and wishing to fuck I had listened to KJ and not come back.
I don't know what I did then. I just tuned out for a bit.
Then the phone rings. Bob calling back--falling all over himself to apologize: he called his guy, the guy owned up to his behavior, and how can we fix this?

*slams head on the desk*

Ma calls 45 minutes later. She's at Lawrence Memorial emergency--she fell before dialysis. The clinic made her go to the hospital after dialysis. Can I come and pick her up?

*slams head on the desk*

So, while I am not moving immediately, I am soon. Because I am numb. Really, just numb. I've hit the place where all of this has gotten so ridiculous, I can't get angry. I'm just... darkly amused.

I think the blog needs to become a memoir and a one-woman show. Because I crack people up when I tell these stories--it's the looks I get on my face, the inflection, the timing... and honestly, this has gone so far over the top, it IS funny.

Unless you're living it.
*slams head on the desk*
Until tomorrow, my blurking darlings. I am going to go home, eat some chicken pie, and soak in a hot tub with a Lush Boog bomb. Because I deserve it.
Much love,
Your Empress

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