Feck I wish it would rain, then at least when someone sees me looking like someone threw up on my cornflakes this morning I can mumble something about it being the AWFUL weather.
Now it is sunny and I am supposed to be all happy and smiley, because that is what people do when it is sunny right? Fuck off.
I am channelling my inner Bitch/Demon/Grinch/Ted Bundi and am well on my way to make a few enemies in the office. <days like these I wish I had a subordinate that I could be mean to, just to make me feel better>
It is a good thing I am not Catholic, otherwise I would have had to do so many Hail Mary’s for all my murderous thoughts this week, I wouldn’t have finished until after my thirtieth birthday (Feck, another thing to be depressed about).
I am having a truly shite week. The only good thing about this week is that it is almost over. Thank. Goodness.
This week started out with a flu, not mine, mind you, but my husband’s, that quickly became my son’s, which then became mine, my father in-law’s, my mother in-law’s and you get where I am going with this, right?
If the flu wasn’t enough, along with it, my son got a bit of pink eyes. Have you ever tried putting eye cream into the eye of a toddler?
Typically, I think, it should be done under sedation, preferably mine. The tube is so tiny, that you really should be issued with some tweezers when they dispense it, then the moment you get the microscopic lid off, all the pink-eyes-fighting-goodness inside squirts out. At that point you are trying to find, restrain and prop open the eyelids of a screaming, flailing, kicking toddler. After what seems like hours struggle, but really it was only a minute or ten, I gave up. There was cream just about everywhere, except for inside his eyes; the forehead is also part of the eye, right?
All of this fun and laughter culminated in call from my boss to crap on me from on high, granted it was in the wrong, but that still doesn’t make the call any more pleasant.
So today, having been excused <read fired> from my Florence Nightingale duties, I came back to the office for some well deserved silent treatment and a generous helping of some strained atmosphere.
I am starting to understand why some people keep hard liqour in their desk drawers.