Now, you think that’s silence you’re hearing, but really, it’s the sound of my brain screaming and screaming and screaming, screaming for hours on end and not stopping, shrieking and hollering and firing off multiple variations of the f-word in rapid succession.
I just had the worst day of work I have ever had in my nearly 21 years of living. Worse than the days when I worked at the vet clinic and had to deal with countless poopy growly cantankerous dogs in the kennels and I hadn’t eaten anything for a few days and was subsequently a Cranky Bitch. Worse than the days when I worked at a childcare center in the school-age room where there was a little fucking terror of a male specimen who would rally the other boys to run amok and cause chaos by hurling, and I mean full-strength HURLING, solid wooden blocks at the other children, girls included, and hit and punch and scream, and I couldn’t do anything about it except say, "NO," because we had a hands-off policy, and I hadn’t eaten anything for a few days save for three or four daily meals consisting solely of more than the recommended dosage of diet pills, and was a Cranky-Ass and Dizzy Bitch who had to Keep Her Shit Together for the kids’ sake.
I don’t suppose that it helped any that this is Week Three for me, also known as the monthly Hell Week, also known as PMS. And usually I’m not this irritable, though I do tend to get emotional (read: easily provoked into tears), and I was on the verge of crying pretty much all day today because I was so fucking stressed out, and then I had to convert an obituary picture into the right format, and it was of this really young woman and she was so beautiful and suddenly there were tears in my eyes because it just didn’t seem right that she died so young, whatever the cause of death was, and also I was listening to Tori Amos’ "Little Earthquakes" on repeat all day, and I know you’re probably thinking, what a stupid choice when I’m emotional as-is, but LET ME TELL YOU, if I hadn’t had that CD and the ability to drown out the rest of the office by utilizing my nifty new headphones (thereby letting myself pretend none of it existed), there would’ve been a couple more pictures for this week’s obits that I would have to have converted into TIFFs tomorrow morning.
I won’t go into the details as to WHY it was such a bad day, but suffice to say, YES, it was really THAT BAD.
Thankfully, I didn’t come home to a very stressful environment, because by god, I just might have imitated that little bastard and started hurling solid objects at random targets, albeit I would choose inanimate ones because I happen to actually like the members of my family. And I managed to have a productive conversation with my mother, who whole-heartedly supports my (theoretical) bid to leap out of this nest (again) and, now that she knows I’ll be taking a good portion of this house’s contents, thereby freeing up a lot of needed space here for her, she’s actually *nudging* me out the door quite enthusiastically.
And you’d think that would cheer me up, and it did for a little bit, but her full permission to move out, which I would have done even without her permission, but having it takes a lot of potential guilt out of this situation– her full permission only makes me more anxious about this whole goddamned roommate business and I’m just thinking, holy fuck, why is it so hard to get a roommate (or two)? And I know it’s only been two days since I’ve heard from Potential One and Potential Two, but I really hate waiting, especially when I’m so paranoid that there are other people looking at this house that I want, and I don’t want to call either Potential because it makes me feel overbearing, like I’m nagging them into renting with me, but DUDE, I know both of them are desperate for a room to rent, so what is the deal here?
And I can’t even indulge in watching "Office Space," which I FINALLY bought on Sunday because it was on sale, because now it’s late and I have to be up early again tomorrow so I can stress the fuck out for another nine-and-a-half hours straight with no lunch break.
I’m going to cry. I could really use some de-carbonated Diet Sierra Mist. But that would involve a trip to Vons, and how pathetic is it that I’m not willing to drive a whole half-mile to Vons, especially when this house I’m looking at is, like, a 7-minute drive to the nearest food-and-beverage supplier, and that’s only a Walgreens, and the nearest grocery store is at least 10 minutes away? WHAT AM I GOING TO DO THEN??
Oh. Wait. I have an unopened bottle of Diet Sierra Mist in the garage. Or in the trunk of my car, one of the two. See? I can be prepared. There’s hope for me yet.