This is a grump alert. Girlfriend's gotta keep the blog alive but so far all she can do is whine.
Just kidding, I'm not gonna whine at you.
But I am grumpy. Just so we're clear.
The past week and a half, which I'm sure will seem like candy compared to the next week and a half, hammered me with some serious stress. I have meetings, more meetings and then meetings about meetings. Don't get me wrong, I'm all about getting together to go over the deets, but meeting morning noon and night wipes me out.
Although this crazy schedule has given me some pretty amusing dreams:
Like the one about happy little kitties holding hands and playing in the middle of major highways at rush hour. Dis-turbing. You can imagine what happened when the cars broke up their frolicking....
Cotton stuffing flew everywhere. I know. A total mess.
And then was the dream about walking along a glacier and needing to use the bathroom inside the glacier that was full of stuffed animals and a live gorilla.
This is what mental exhaustion does. It takes too much energy to make a logical dream so my brain just puts together random thoughts floating around in the gray matter.
Why I would have gorillas and kitty-cide anywhere in there is beyond me.
And I don't quite have the time to figure it all out...I've got a date with a dunk tank to schedule.
Showing posts with label stress. Show all posts
Showing posts with label stress. Show all posts
Wednesday, August 3, 2011
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
Tuesday can take a flyin' leap...
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.
Such promise.
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.
Whoopsie.
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.
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.
Such promise.
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.
Whoopsie.
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.
Wednesday, June 23, 2010
Today is Wednesday
That means yesterday was Tuesday. Although I was reminded several times, I still thought yesterday was today, which would make today tomorrow, which would mean today was my Friday as I have Friday off from work.
Do you follow?
Eh, it's not important.
What is important is that today is still Wednesday, and I have two days to do a whole lotta stuff before I am immersed in wedding activities. Not mine.
I am busy, and I am stressed. So please excuse:
1. Randomness of posts
2. Lack of restraint in posts
3. Lack of posts until my hair grows back
Thank you.
See you later.
Maybe.
Do you follow?
Eh, it's not important.
What is important is that today is still Wednesday, and I have two days to do a whole lotta stuff before I am immersed in wedding activities. Not mine.
I am busy, and I am stressed. So please excuse:
1. Randomness of posts
2. Lack of restraint in posts
3. Lack of posts until my hair grows back
Thank you.
See you later.
Maybe.
Tuesday, January 5, 2010
My name is Lucky.
I am one of those unfortunate souls who just can't catch a break. If something could go wrong, it usually does. Luckily I've become accustomed to my misfortune and can find some humor in most embarrassing situations.
I was reminded of my unlucky streak yesterday as I fell half dressed out of the changing stall I forgot to lock in the YMCA's locker room.
What came to mind, however, had absolutely nothing to do with accidental exposure (although I do forget to zip my fly almost every time we visit Corey's family), or embarrassing falls.
Back in my early 20's, a long, long time ago, I managed to drop things in the toilet at the most inopportune times. Come to think of it, I don't know that there really is a good time, but I digress.
It was Halloween night, and I spent the evening with friends at a neighbor's house. My costume: bunny ears and a fluffy tail. Unoriginal, but super cool. Anyway, one fateful trip to the bathroom found my fuzzy white tail swimming in a pool of...um, slightly yellow water.
Don't hold this part against me, I was young and under the influence of...uh, orange soda.
I scooped out my soggy tail, dried it off on a towel (I know, I know....), reattached it with the same faulty safety pin and rejoined my friends. End of story. Not too bad.
This next situation is cringe-worthy. I'm actually cringing right now.
Not too long after the tail incident I spent a weekend with a friend visiting his sister and her family. As you probably know, in an unfamiliar place your normal routines fly out the window. Especially when it comes to shower time.
You set a bag of make-up here, a bag of hair supplies there, old clothes on the floor, fresh clothes on the back of the toilet....wait, no the hair supplies should go there, and the make-up on that side of the counter....no that doesn't work either...and so on.
My point is, you're flustered. You have limited space for all your stuff. Accidents can happen. And an accident did happen.
My underwear fell in the toilet. Fresh underwear. By then it was my only pair.
"Crap."
It's not like I can announce to everyone, "hey, I just dropped a pair of panties in the toilet...you think they'd go down ok?"
So, of course, I scoop them out and wring the excess water. Gross, gross, gross, gross, gross. Gross.
But what now??
Can't dry 'em.
Can't lay 'em out to dry.
"I'll roll them up in toilet paper!!"
Awesome idea 21 year old Stace.
So that's what I do. I wrap them up in half a roll of toilet paper. Then I wrap my old clothes around the panty-roll, and set everything on top of my bag in the living room. We go about our day sight-seeing and come back to find the room rearranged.
"Wait a sec. Where's my bag?!"
My friend's brother-in-law moved it.
"Why are my old clothes not wrapped the same way?!"
That's right. My secret was uncovered.
Under the pile of clothes I find my now soggy toilet paper ball which, to him, contained who knows what.
Oh the absolute horror. And now the agony of deciding whether or not to bring it up. It was, after all, just underwear. Not a big deal, right?!
I left the issue hanging. And to this day he is probably still wondering what was in that soggy mess he accidently touched.
I was reminded of my unlucky streak yesterday as I fell half dressed out of the changing stall I forgot to lock in the YMCA's locker room.
What came to mind, however, had absolutely nothing to do with accidental exposure (although I do forget to zip my fly almost every time we visit Corey's family), or embarrassing falls.
Back in my early 20's, a long, long time ago, I managed to drop things in the toilet at the most inopportune times. Come to think of it, I don't know that there really is a good time, but I digress.
It was Halloween night, and I spent the evening with friends at a neighbor's house. My costume: bunny ears and a fluffy tail. Unoriginal, but super cool. Anyway, one fateful trip to the bathroom found my fuzzy white tail swimming in a pool of...um, slightly yellow water.
Don't hold this part against me, I was young and under the influence of...uh, orange soda.
I scooped out my soggy tail, dried it off on a towel (I know, I know....), reattached it with the same faulty safety pin and rejoined my friends. End of story. Not too bad.
This next situation is cringe-worthy. I'm actually cringing right now.
Not too long after the tail incident I spent a weekend with a friend visiting his sister and her family. As you probably know, in an unfamiliar place your normal routines fly out the window. Especially when it comes to shower time.
You set a bag of make-up here, a bag of hair supplies there, old clothes on the floor, fresh clothes on the back of the toilet....wait, no the hair supplies should go there, and the make-up on that side of the counter....no that doesn't work either...and so on.
My point is, you're flustered. You have limited space for all your stuff. Accidents can happen. And an accident did happen.
My underwear fell in the toilet. Fresh underwear. By then it was my only pair.
"Crap."
It's not like I can announce to everyone, "hey, I just dropped a pair of panties in the toilet...you think they'd go down ok?"
So, of course, I scoop them out and wring the excess water. Gross, gross, gross, gross, gross. Gross.
But what now??
Can't dry 'em.
Can't lay 'em out to dry.
"I'll roll them up in toilet paper!!"
Awesome idea 21 year old Stace.
So that's what I do. I wrap them up in half a roll of toilet paper. Then I wrap my old clothes around the panty-roll, and set everything on top of my bag in the living room. We go about our day sight-seeing and come back to find the room rearranged.
"Wait a sec. Where's my bag?!"
My friend's brother-in-law moved it.
"Why are my old clothes not wrapped the same way?!"
That's right. My secret was uncovered.
Under the pile of clothes I find my now soggy toilet paper ball which, to him, contained who knows what.
Oh the absolute horror. And now the agony of deciding whether or not to bring it up. It was, after all, just underwear. Not a big deal, right?!
I left the issue hanging. And to this day he is probably still wondering what was in that soggy mess he accidently touched.
Monday, July 27, 2009
51 days...
"Um, hi. I would, uh, like to buy a week."
"...wha..."
"Yeah. I don't think I'm going to have enough time. I need some more. A week should be fine."
silence
"So how much will that cost me?"
"...we make sandwiches here."
"Yes, hello. I am planning a wedding and I am running out of time. Can I buy some?"
"You, uh, want a watch?"
"No, thanks. I have one, see? No, what I need are hours. Several of them. Preferably the kind where I am wide awake. You know, daytime hours."
"Lemme talk to a manager.........Yeah, we don't sell that. This is Joann Fabrics. We sell...fabric"
"Hi there. Looking to buy approximately 168 hours if you have any in stock."
"Hours of...vacation??"
"No, unfortunately the vacation comes after the wedding, which is what I need the extra time for. Lots to do!"
"Lemme get this straight, you want to buy time. Like stretch out days. Make weeks longer. Completely interrupt the whole world's schedule."
"That's it exactly! So do you have any?!"
"Uh, hi. It's me again. Yes, I'll have a six-inch meatball on wheat hold the cheese..."
"...wha..."
"Yeah. I don't think I'm going to have enough time. I need some more. A week should be fine."
silence
"So how much will that cost me?"
"...we make sandwiches here."
"Yes, hello. I am planning a wedding and I am running out of time. Can I buy some?"
"You, uh, want a watch?"
"No, thanks. I have one, see? No, what I need are hours. Several of them. Preferably the kind where I am wide awake. You know, daytime hours."
"Lemme talk to a manager.........Yeah, we don't sell that. This is Joann Fabrics. We sell...fabric"
"Hi there. Looking to buy approximately 168 hours if you have any in stock."
"Hours of...vacation??"
"No, unfortunately the vacation comes after the wedding, which is what I need the extra time for. Lots to do!"
"Lemme get this straight, you want to buy time. Like stretch out days. Make weeks longer. Completely interrupt the whole world's schedule."
"That's it exactly! So do you have any?!"
"Uh, hi. It's me again. Yes, I'll have a six-inch meatball on wheat hold the cheese..."
Thursday, July 23, 2009
57 days...
Oh. My. Gosh.
Do the periods and implied pauses between each word accurately relay the seriousness of 57 days?
Do you know, we still have a ceremony to plan? And I can't put together a program until I have stuff to fill it with.
We also don't have a song. He likes Rage Against the Machine, I'm more of a Michael Buble fan. There is NO happy medium.
And I've been told my bridesmaids have to walk down the aisle to something other than silence and blank stares. News to me.
1,359 hours. 81,540 minutes. 4,892,400 seconds...give or take a few.
So, when am I going to do all of this?
During Everyone Loves Raymond?
Should I cancel my dinner parties and social soirees??
Am I supposed to have no life for this wedding?!?
...but i exaggerate...
Do the periods and implied pauses between each word accurately relay the seriousness of 57 days?
Do you know, we still have a ceremony to plan? And I can't put together a program until I have stuff to fill it with.
We also don't have a song. He likes Rage Against the Machine, I'm more of a Michael Buble fan. There is NO happy medium.
And I've been told my bridesmaids have to walk down the aisle to something other than silence and blank stares. News to me.
1,359 hours. 81,540 minutes. 4,892,400 seconds...give or take a few.
So, when am I going to do all of this?
During Everyone Loves Raymond?
Should I cancel my dinner parties and social soirees??
Am I supposed to have no life for this wedding?!?
...but i exaggerate...
Monday, June 22, 2009
88 days...
All work and no play makes Stacie cranky and irritable.
Weekend phone conversation:
"I'm throwing the ball for Oliver off the dock! He just jumps right off the end!!" him
"Sorry, I can't hear you, I'm auditioning our string quartet. Sounds like you're having a great time." me
"Yeah, we just had some hot dogs!" him
"What was that? Katie's 90lb Rottweiler/monster mix just grabbed the whole roasted chicken off the counter." me
"Oh. It's so peaceful and relaxing here...the boats passing by, the waves on the shore." him
"Hang on, I'm going to have to put you on speaker phone, I have to use both hands to do this cutting and pasting for the the seven presents I am working on." me
"That's ok, I'm going to bed now anyway." him
"Wow, 9:30. Ok, I'm just going to let the dog out, review tomorrow's Sunday school lesson, clean up my clay mess, and start a movie to keep me company while I work on my next project." me
Glad you had a wonderful, fun-filled time, dear.
Weekend phone conversation:
"I'm throwing the ball for Oliver off the dock! He just jumps right off the end!!" him
"Sorry, I can't hear you, I'm auditioning our string quartet. Sounds like you're having a great time." me
"Yeah, we just had some hot dogs!" him
"What was that? Katie's 90lb Rottweiler/monster mix just grabbed the whole roasted chicken off the counter." me
"Oh. It's so peaceful and relaxing here...the boats passing by, the waves on the shore." him
"Hang on, I'm going to have to put you on speaker phone, I have to use both hands to do this cutting and pasting for the the seven presents I am working on." me
"That's ok, I'm going to bed now anyway." him
"Wow, 9:30. Ok, I'm just going to let the dog out, review tomorrow's Sunday school lesson, clean up my clay mess, and start a movie to keep me company while I work on my next project." me
Glad you had a wonderful, fun-filled time, dear.
Wednesday, June 17, 2009
93 days...
Nothing new to report. No nightmares. No adventures. Invitations going smoothly.
Corey has only suggested having them sent out to be printed twice.
The printer is not provoking me. We've spent some much needed time apart.
Despite my checklist's rude personal hygiene assumption last week, I have revisited my morning workout routine.
I make my bed now. And fold my clothes. I have time to do these things.
I've spent more time in the kitchen practicing putting ingredients together to produce something edible, thanks to my future mother-in-law's gentle urging.
Corey has only suggested having them sent out to be printed twice.
The printer is not provoking me. We've spent some much needed time apart.
Despite my checklist's rude personal hygiene assumption last week, I have revisited my morning workout routine.
I make my bed now. And fold my clothes. I have time to do these things.
I've spent more time in the kitchen practicing putting ingredients together to produce something edible, thanks to my future mother-in-law's gentle urging.
How boring this must be for you to read about how things are finally going right.
Just hang on. Tonight I might throw my hands up in desperation and drag Corey to Vegas for a simple ceremony in one of 25 Elvis chapels. Or I could just go crazy. Either way, it will give me something to talk about in the morning.
Thursday, May 21, 2009
121 days...
Crisis averted. Meltdown over. Wedding: on.
Yesterday's mini-breakdown stems from me wanting it all. Selfish, spoiled, brat? Um, no. The live giraffes and fireworks display would solely be for our guests benefit. The elephant, on the other hand, would be for me...I've always wanted to ride one bare back like they do in Africa.
With help from the FH (that's Future Husband in chatspeak) I have come to the realization that I not only can't have it all, but I don't NEED it all.
I don't NEED the ice cubes cut in the shapes of our initials, or the diamonds glued to my nails. I can go on living if Frank Sinatra himself does not make an encore performance for our first song!
Because that is not what it's all about folks! It took one auto-pilot commute, a frantic phone call, and four bags of leftover St. Patrick's Day chocolates for me to realize that it's about Mssr. Corey and Beetle lovin' each other and gettin' hitched.
Yesterday's mini-breakdown stems from me wanting it all. Selfish, spoiled, brat? Um, no. The live giraffes and fireworks display would solely be for our guests benefit. The elephant, on the other hand, would be for me...I've always wanted to ride one bare back like they do in Africa.
With help from the FH (that's Future Husband in chatspeak) I have come to the realization that I not only can't have it all, but I don't NEED it all.
I don't NEED the ice cubes cut in the shapes of our initials, or the diamonds glued to my nails. I can go on living if Frank Sinatra himself does not make an encore performance for our first song!
Because that is not what it's all about folks! It took one auto-pilot commute, a frantic phone call, and four bags of leftover St. Patrick's Day chocolates for me to realize that it's about Mssr. Corey and Beetle lovin' each other and gettin' hitched.
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