In Which I Try to Hold Onto My Own Hat

The past week has been stressful at work.

The Perfect One has been editing my documents. And of course you know, my documents spring full grown from the brow of Zeus. Then I learned that TPO and her group have been holding on to previous documentation that they did, without once cluing me in. I started working on Document A in 4/11. They had completed their documentation on Process A in 3/11. Did I think to ask them? I have to admit, I didn't. I suppose I'm not that familiar with what an auditing group does, but I didn't think they did this kind of thing.

Then again, no one ever came to me from TPO's group and said, hey, we have some docs that might help you out.

Document A was incomplete because the manager of that group had a nervous breakdown and asked to be demoted.

All day yesterday, I felt like someone had shackled me, wrist and ankle, to my desk. I couldn't sit still. I was hyper touchy. I was willing to chew through my wrist and ankle (I mean, if I could reach them) just to get the hell out of there. Another thing that stopped me from fleeing was a scheduled meeting with the Big Boss.

He validated my existence by looking at a document I had written, based on comments made by legal eagles, and said with a hint of surprise in his voice, "We're really moving along with this. This is good."

But when I got back to my desk, I still wanted to chew my way free.

I knew yesterday by 3 pm that I would not be going to work today, that I would take a personal day off. I have nothing pressing at work. I just knew I could not tolerate another day within 50 feet of The Perfect One.

Plus, I am in the grips of Refi Mania. I'm sorry. Really I am. I'll call Dr. A and Dr. Yeow and see what they advise.

Yesterday, I made a list of what I need to do before The Appraiser Cometh. This morning when I woke up at four, I decided that I would take myself out for breakfast at around 6:30 and then go to Home Depot.

Home Depot. Jeez, I'm sorry to wake you guys up, but the sign says you open at 6. Haven't you had your coffee by now? Are you not yet awake and alert? Can you please stop fucking smirking at the fat white woman who wants to do a little humble home maintenance, like painting her front door and the railings on her porch. (Front door: Brick red. Railings: Dark Walnut. I like the change from black.)

What I didn't realize until I was loading two nice big buckets of white and purple cone flowers in my car was that the switch has been flipped and I'm off to ManicLand. I got home, unloaded the cone flowers onto my front steps and realized the trees in front need pruning. I also realized the humidity is about 115%. And the temperature is going to be well above 90 today. Me? Paint? In this weather? Oh, darlin', it is to dream. The most I'm going to be up for is finding a mason on Angie's list who doesn't mind taking on the small job of repairing my front steps.

One possible course of action for me today is to change into my comfiest clothes, turn the a/c way down low and begin the decluttering process, which I hope will not unhinge me further.

But what if I want to chew my way out of Ma Maisonette?

There was a very, very bad, very private crisis here last Saturday, which is still so painful I don't want to go into it. Suffice it to say for the moment that I was deeply shocked and disturbed by my thoughts and the only way I could think of to deal with the situation was to drug myself into a long sleep. The echoes of it still bother me.

Sometimes I feel...so very, very whack.