I need to learn meditation or I need to start drinking at work. Remember old movies when the cranky guy would open his desk drawer and pull out a fifth? Then he and his cronies would toast their miserable lives, smoke cigarettes and everything would be OK for the next ten minutes? Sounds real good except for the next ten minutes when I’d doze off and wake up coughing up a lung and feeling like shit. So I’d end up with the same result only without the warm feeling of booze.
You say it’s only 8:30 how can it be bad already? Oh, my friends, it not only can be bad but it is bad. The noise in my office ceiling. The debate I had in my head about pulling out my MP3 player–to pull it out and listen to it or keep it hiding in my bag. I decided that since the woman down the hall had her wallet stolen out of her bag that the MP3 player is at risk whether it’s on my desk or in my bag. I have hidden the player behind my screen and speakers. At least it will be harder to steal. My plastic Jesus that normally sits on my PC to protect and offer beneficence was laying on my desk. I don’t know how come he was so far from his perch or why nearly everything on my desk had been moved around–overzealous cleaning crew? Did they actually use my phone over the weekend because it was totally not in the right place. Do I even care?
Then there is the knowledge that I’ve reached a career plateau which includes a structural plateau and a content plateau. Lucky for me I haven’t reached a life plateau yet.
On a positive note, I managed not to kill Control Freak over the weekend when she drew the conclusion that because we don’t subscribe to the daily paper that we don’t read. Yeah, I don’t read the local paper that is taking a bigger and bigger nose dive every day with lackadaisical writing and weak content. But I do read complex, tough things every single day. For my job and for school. But, the Control Freak is always right. Right out of her mind.
Seriously, where is that bottle?
