There is not enough caffeine in the world to help the kind of tired I am today; nor is there enough chocolate in the world to overcome the utter lack of ambition I’m experiencing.
All night long, I had the same dream, over and over again. It was not a bit complex or meaningful or scary or anything like that. It was painfully simple, and it went like this: “Ring! Ring! Ring!”
That’s right! All night long, my subconscious mind kept saying, “Psst! Phone’s ringin’!”
So all night long, I kept jerking awake and fumbling for the !*%&@ing phone. Which was not ringing.
It was like being the butt-end of a psychological crank call. And I will now draw a veil of decency over my feelings on this topic, because the words currently in my head are not acceptable in any society, polite or otherwise. I’m pretty sure hardened felons would pale if they could hear my interior dialog right now.
I am so grateful that my children are in daycare today. I am in the kind of foul mood that results in hard-core discipline being handed down over minor matters; the kind of mood that will then turn around and excuse such behavior as being a good life lesson in how unfair life really is.
Because life is unfair. How unfair? How about this one: The Tylenol I’m taking for the general pain…is giving me a headache.
Now, when you have a headache that has been brought on by headache medicine…what do you do?
I’d vote for ‘drink heavily’, only allegedly I’m working today. At this precise moment, in fact, I am waiting for a call to discuss why what is being asked of me is impossible due to a pair of equally omnipresent laws: those of physics, and those of Murphy.
I suspect that if I were even slightly wasted, I might actually speak my mind on this subject to the client.
Which would be…bad. Very, very bad. I am, in point of fact, planning to take a backseat on this particular discussion and allow my senior to lead. I’m just going to sit here, quietly taking notes and grousing to myself about how much I don’t give a @*^&.
Because I don’t. I will tomorrow, I’m sure. And the day after that. But right this very exact moment?
Not even a little @*^&.
Hey! Whaddya know? THIS time, the !*%&@ing phone really IS ringing...
The Shoemaker’s Children
19 hours ago