You know how sometimes, life treats you like crap, but then it backs off and allows you to relax and enjoy the ride? But then the second you let your guard down because something really positive is happening in your life, you just get bitch-smacked and knocked back down to crap status?
Why does that keep happening to us?
I'd had plans to blog again in about a week about this thing that was happening that was going to make August 29 finally have a positive experience. But then with Isaac, that got rescheduled for a week later. Fine, whatever. (Hey, Isaac, nice of you to drop in on Katrina's anniversary, by the way. Way to have me celebrate by spending a week at my parents' house because a tree knocked the power and cable lines off of my house. Way to keep my dad's business shuttered again. Way to keep my phone, cable, and Internet down for two weeks and my electricity down for one. We didn't need that stuff in the freezer anyway. And so what that my online classes started, so now I'm playing catch-up in a totally overwhelming state of existence.)
But before this could happen, it was taken away. It has left in its wake despair and rage. So much pain. And there was nothing to do about it. There will be no happy posting.
I have been stuck inside for three weeks now: one week for Isaac, two weeks for what happened. To say the words, even to type them, is too difficult right now. You can probably figure it out, anyway. At some point, I may talk more. Right now, I just needed to put this down.
There is no justice in life. You work hard for other people, never saying no to anyone, toiling away and being there for other people, furthering your education, working in a career that is rewarding, frustrating, and thankless all at once, and something good should happen, right? You get drunk on trailer trash reality shows, cartwheel without panties, and end up in rehab, with no job, no purpose on this Earth other than taking up oxygen and space, and the class and intelligence of a grain of sand, you should get nothing. But that's not how it works. Oh, no. Those people get everything. They can keep what you cannot.
There. I got that out. But I still don't feel any better. Maybe the "Daria" marathon we've had this week has affected me. As if I wasn't cynical enough...
I need to go back to work. Work makes me think of work. I can block out reality that way. In fact, if it wasn't for my friends at work, the past two weeks would have been even more unbearable. I am lucky enough to work with and for some beautiful people. Monday can't get here fast enough. Somehow, though, as much as I look forward to it and need it, I am dreading it all the same. I don't want to put on the strong and happy face. They're just going to have to deal with me. My poor students. How many times will I be able to handle the "Where were you?!?!"s that get lobbed in my direction before I snap at some undeserving person? It's going to take every last ounce of self-control that I have left, every bit of my acting training, and every bit of my friends' assistance, which I have to take. I don't like having help. It's my best and most frustrating quality, if you ask poor Mark. Poor Mark. So good, so strong, so kind. Stuck with me and my negativity. I don't understand his strength and patience. I'm jealous, and I told him so tonight.
I just need the constant reminders to stop. The whole thing needs to be over. I can't move forward until the last bit is done. So here I sit, in neutral, spinning my gears with no results.
Maybe Life will get her shit together and stop pulling the metaphorical football out from underneath us for once. Life. She's truly a bitch sometimes.
Showing posts with label ugh. Show all posts
Showing posts with label ugh. Show all posts
Friday, September 14, 2012
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
A terrible, horrible, no-good, very bad day!
Yesterday was rotten. First, I found out that I didn't make the cut to attend the Renaissance Festival with the majority of the school. Instead, I was subbing and stuck at school. Whatever. I'll just go another weekend. I have until Dec. 13.
On Monday, I'd had to attend a bowling meeting about districting since I "coach" the school bowling team. I also direct the play. Rehearsals are dwindling down, so I couldn't just cancel. I had a friend who used to do theater watch rehearsals for me, and paid her in breakfast.
I drove to PJ's, ordered a medium soy latte for Jenn and a small soy mocha for me. The guy didn't put my drink in the drink holder properly, and I didn't notice until I turned a corner and heard a strange sound. This was the sound of a coffee cup popping out of the cardboard tray and flipping over, then coffee glugging out onto the floor mats of my 10-month-old car. It smells like a coffee shop. Thankfully, I had soy milk instead of cow's milk, so it didn't smell sour that afternoon. I pulled over, cleaned it as best I could, and then realized that the brand-new sweater I was wearing had coffee all over the sleeve. JOY!
Then I realized that I forgot lunch. We had a 1 p.m. dismissal for the kids for a SACS meeting, and I had my kids stay for rehearsals. I had some crackers and some leftover brie in the fridge, so I noshed on that to hold me over. When the meeting ended, I grabbed my cast and we walked down the street to the store.
One kid was picked up 40 minutes late, and I'd had a call from Mark saying that he had to go to work for 6:30 instead of 8. It was after 5:30, so I ran to McDonald's for nuggets, dropped them off, said hello and goodbye, and ate dinner all alone.
Then I was very tired later, so I showered and went to bed. Shazzy was in my bed sleeping. He didn't want to move. I read for a while, put down the book, took off my glasses, turned out the light, and rolled over after a minute. Generally, I shove my hand under my pillow when I sleep on my side. I did so, and felt something, which I thought may have been a wayward Kleenex since I'd been sick last week. But it was small. And it tickled me. I was convinced I imagined it until it tickled me again. I yanked out my hand and threw whatever it was into the darkness. I had a bottle of water on the floor and heard a clunk. I freaked for a minute, then grabbed my glasses and turned on the light. I saw nothing. I'd felt it. I'd thrown it. I'd heard it. But I didn't see it. Conclusion: Shazzy brought a spider or roach into the bed, but it ran under my pillow for safety, then fell into my hand before being ejected and running to safety.
At that point, I flung the covers off, ran to the bathroom, and couldn't scrub my hands hard enough. Soap, hot water, Germ-X, repeat. I eventually crept back into my room, lifted the pillows and sheets, decided it was safe, and went to bed.
But then I was wide awake. You would be, too. Light stayed on, I read for a while. I texted Mark what happened. His response: "Well, in 45 minutes, the day will be over."
Gee, thanks. Goodnight.
On Monday, I'd had to attend a bowling meeting about districting since I "coach" the school bowling team. I also direct the play. Rehearsals are dwindling down, so I couldn't just cancel. I had a friend who used to do theater watch rehearsals for me, and paid her in breakfast.
I drove to PJ's, ordered a medium soy latte for Jenn and a small soy mocha for me. The guy didn't put my drink in the drink holder properly, and I didn't notice until I turned a corner and heard a strange sound. This was the sound of a coffee cup popping out of the cardboard tray and flipping over, then coffee glugging out onto the floor mats of my 10-month-old car. It smells like a coffee shop. Thankfully, I had soy milk instead of cow's milk, so it didn't smell sour that afternoon. I pulled over, cleaned it as best I could, and then realized that the brand-new sweater I was wearing had coffee all over the sleeve. JOY!
Then I realized that I forgot lunch. We had a 1 p.m. dismissal for the kids for a SACS meeting, and I had my kids stay for rehearsals. I had some crackers and some leftover brie in the fridge, so I noshed on that to hold me over. When the meeting ended, I grabbed my cast and we walked down the street to the store.
One kid was picked up 40 minutes late, and I'd had a call from Mark saying that he had to go to work for 6:30 instead of 8. It was after 5:30, so I ran to McDonald's for nuggets, dropped them off, said hello and goodbye, and ate dinner all alone.
Then I was very tired later, so I showered and went to bed. Shazzy was in my bed sleeping. He didn't want to move. I read for a while, put down the book, took off my glasses, turned out the light, and rolled over after a minute. Generally, I shove my hand under my pillow when I sleep on my side. I did so, and felt something, which I thought may have been a wayward Kleenex since I'd been sick last week. But it was small. And it tickled me. I was convinced I imagined it until it tickled me again. I yanked out my hand and threw whatever it was into the darkness. I had a bottle of water on the floor and heard a clunk. I freaked for a minute, then grabbed my glasses and turned on the light. I saw nothing. I'd felt it. I'd thrown it. I'd heard it. But I didn't see it. Conclusion: Shazzy brought a spider or roach into the bed, but it ran under my pillow for safety, then fell into my hand before being ejected and running to safety.
At that point, I flung the covers off, ran to the bathroom, and couldn't scrub my hands hard enough. Soap, hot water, Germ-X, repeat. I eventually crept back into my room, lifted the pillows and sheets, decided it was safe, and went to bed.
But then I was wide awake. You would be, too. Light stayed on, I read for a while. I texted Mark what happened. His response: "Well, in 45 minutes, the day will be over."
Gee, thanks. Goodnight.
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