What the fuck am I even doing here?
I’ve got a Keurig. It’s red. One step up from the base model, and that’s okay by me. On sale, even better.
I won’t rant about the bitch of a time I had to get it home from Dufferin Mall in the rain. Had no control over the traffic. I will ask, why the hell there was that amount of traffic. But it’s Toronto, there’s your answer.
It’s a tasty brew, this machine.
I loaded iTunes. Hit play.
First 3 random songs:
Yup. That about sums me up.
aka The Universe IS out to get me, and I have proof.
The absolute worst day. Work was fine, I was surpassing expectations. Everything hummed.
It’s when I left. That’s when the shit storm began.
And, fuck, as I try to explain it now, the words are fucking stuck in my head, hiding under a blanket. Like it’s a trauma I’m trying to compartmentalize.
Right. The milk.
I stopped at the corner store to get a jug of milk. You know, the 4L ones that you can only find at Mac’s Milk. They’d just got in a fresh batch and I grabbed one and walked up to the counter and–
–went to put it on the counter–
—and instead it hit the floor and burst open, a white tidal wave against my pants and into my shoes.
I’m running late. Tech support is calling me at 8:30 to work on the timesheet issue (thankfully, now fixed) and I have no time to think of cooking as I’ve gotta take the pants and– shit might as well do a load of laundry– down to the corner and get it running. I’m emailing my timesheets (the other ones I fill out with the Bank) to a third-party at the agency.
I open the package from my accountant. I’d specified at least a half-dozen times that I need to file 2 different tax returns this year, pre and post bankruptcy. Only he’s only done the one. I go back over my sent files. Yup, I didn’t imagine it. So now my taxes are going to be even later, and he can only do the pre-bankruptcy and I have to find a different accountant to do the post-bankruptcy returns.
And regarding all those fucking timesheets? Others in the office who came from different agencies don’t have to go through all that crap. It’s. Just. Me.
So yes, I feel like I’m being fucked with tonight.
And I’m really pissed off about it.
I have a desk, and a phone. Now I have a proper login, and the timesheet system for the Bank is active. They accepted my Saturday hours. Just needs to get the other timesheet system to do it.
Also have a pencil cup holder, stapler (it’s not red, sadly), and other items. And of course I now have to do all the compliance tests.
Spent 2 days working on a particular conversion project which is now done, so that means I’ve got… thousands more to go. Okay, maybe hundreds.
I’d better bloody get paid on Friday.
And spring better show up soon. I could’ve worn my winter jacket today, it was that brutal.
You know what I’ve realized? It never ends. There’s never really a chance to do nothing. You can put it off, pretend. But it’s always going to be there. And you need to get to it eventually. Repeatedly. Ad nauseum.
No, not really. My brain wanders during Game of Thrones.
Peter Dinklage, Peter Dinklage, Peter Dinklsage…
Oh youtube, is there nothing you don’t have?
I’m so damned tired. Why am I not in bed?
I wish there was a reset pill. I’d like an emotional reset, please.
Lately it’s been a pile of frustration and aggression, and I’m just really starting to notice it.
Six month ago was the same. Then it was different emotions, and a lot of crying.
Tonight on my way home from a party (after working 5 1/2 hours before that), I thought about how much I missed crying.
I’ll feel better after some sleep.
Working 1-6:30, then off to an event. Pray I don’t have to work tomorrow too.
And the stupid timesheet system won’t take my week because it refuses to accept my weekend hours. How fuckin’ stupid is that?
In less than a month, I’ve gone from no work to so much damn work I need to contract some of it out.
And it’s just going to get more insane. My hours at the office are going to change. I might even have a shift in the days I work. For sure, I’m working Saturday, maybe Sunday, and next Saturday.
Tonight I got home at 7:30, bolted back out to start laundry down the street, back home to write an email regarding the subcontract, out again to throw everything in the dryer, off to the grocery store for essentials (bread, bagels), home again and made lunch for tomorrow, back a third time to the laundromat to fold laundry. I finished at 10pm; didn’t eat dinner until 10 minutes ago. There’s no way in hell I’m gonna clean this apartment anytime soon. If the roommate wants to pitch in, I won’t say no.
Now I’m trying to unwind with a movie.
I need to farm out my life. Someone should enjoy it.
My soon-to-be niece-in-law (is that a thing, or is she just my niece?) announced today that they’re having a girl. Could’ve told her to save the trouble with the MRI; when they announced I told her it was a girl. My name has been cursed in the delivery room, I’m so damned accurate. If this is my super power, I should go into business–
Oh great, even less free time.
On the way back from No Frills, the streetcar pulls up (in the rain) as I’m listening to the following. I nearly tripped up the stairs it was so perfectly times.
Now fuck off. I need to watch this movie and unwind. I only have enough time before I have to crash and get up for work tomorrow.
The Bloody Doors Off 