Boy am glad that day's over.
Over and done and gone forever.
Although it started with such promise....
...at 2am when Corey's coughing kept me awake until 3am and then a Lifetime movie kept me awake until 6am and then I had to get up for work at 7am.
It only really got rough once I got into the office. The NYS Senator's office where I take residents' complaints and turn them into sunshine.
And try to get them their unemployment.
So I'm in the office. I find out the maniac whose been honking his horn in the parking lot is Corey trying to get my attention. He's sitting there in his pajamas and slippers waving like a lunatic in my general direction. He had run out of the house behind me once he realized he left his cell phone in my car and desperately needed it.
Then I took a call and was yelled at by a constituent: apparently, my boss does not like children and would like to see harm come to them. This is, of course, the same boss who is mother to six and grandmother to 13.
Then I was hung up on.
Then I spent almost an hour listening to the saddest story of the week while watching a man cry.
(Girlfriends, can we say a hopeless, dejected man is one of the sadder things around?)
Then I balled to Corey on the phone while warming up my lunch. The events of the day were, as they say, the camel that came and sat right on my face.
The straw that the camel found in its ear....?
I realized that maybe it's time to find a new job, to move on.
Then realized that I have no idea what I would move on to.
And then I ate a buncha chocolate.
For serious. I had, like, twelve Hershey kisses with almonds and some Reese's PB cups leftover from Christmas. Because what's a girl to do who has a piece of paper that reads, "Congratulations, you have a degree in talkin' good"? And what's a girl to do who has ruled out all of the possible fields in which the skill of "talkin' good" would be applicable?
But that is neither here, nor there.
But really it is here. And I have no idea what that saying means.
Luckily, the bad stops here. I came home to footie pajamas. And Corey, probably fearing a still-sobbing mess, prepared a meal fit for an almost-sobbing-mess: a burger covered in chili, cheese and mustard, chocolate ice cream with homemade raspberry sauce, and cookies with milk. I snuggled up with the dog and fell asleep at 9pm.
I'm still expecting to find the same problems at work, the same issues I don't want to have to deal with anymore, and the same brick wall with the words "What's Next?" written all over in graffiti.
...not amateur Schenectady graffiti, more like the work of NYC subway tunnel artists.
But eventually things will change. I'll know where I'm going. And that dang camel will be able to find the piece of straw in the haystack.