||[Aug. 11th, 2008|11:21 am]
I was already pushed to the edge -- nothing I do at work seems to be well, working. Anything that can go wrong with a contract is...and not in a funny, Murphy's Law, cute work poster kinda way. I mean, ball-grinding, brain-shredding, aneurysm kind of way. Plus, overriding it all is me worrying away like a dog with a bone...no, like a prisoner gnawing on the last rope knot...no, like my hand is the only thing keeping me trapped and I'm going to have to chew it off, is this thought: "is the lack of positive feedback because I suck, or because this is the culture in my department?" And "Is asking for feedback going to seem pathetic and weak or assertive, or who cares, because if I don't I might go mad." |
But whatever, it's Monday now, and that's settled into a dull ache I don't have time to worry about. But on Thursday, I was on the edge. And having to leave on time to run home, dress out, gather last minute items and head down to the Food Bank Benefit at Piratz was pushing me right up against it.
Until I got home and all the rest of the stress seemed like nothing. NOTHING.
Oh, Brave Soul, you came behind the cut. Either you didn't know how gross it's going to get, or you are desperate for something to make YOUR current day seem better. Well, if it's the latter, here ya go:
I bolt out of the car, running through the checklist...walk the dogs, feed the cats, feed the dogs, change out the pee pads for Willow, change into rig, gather the items to bring with me, walk the dogs again, bolt for Silver Spring. I can do this.
And I worry a little when I get out of the car and can hear the dogs barking downstairs. That means there was thunder or something close to it, and Percy has knocked down the babygate that keeps them upstairs (and calm). Sigh. Okay, that also means that Willow has probably peed downstairs where there are no pee pads set up. But I can deal with that.
Until I open the door. The smell hits me first. And there is poo everywhere. What was a giant poo in the entryway, at least until two hyper ecstatic happy to see me greyhounds managed to dance it all OVER the place. And I watch in horror as Percy, feet liberally coated, spazzes into the living room, up on the couch, down the back hallway...
And I am bursting blood vessels screaming at him to "HOLD IT" which is their command to stand still. Which has no effect whatsoever, because now I've scared him and....somehow I manage to get leashes on them and get them out in the yard. And I come back in to survey the damages. Well, after giving serious thought to just setting the house on fire and running away.
It's way worse than I even imagined. The two pee spots and vomit circle in the living room pale in comparison to the danced poo all over the hallway, entryway, living room, and kitchen. And that my friends, pales in comparison to the poo on the stair landing. Which was trounced, trampled, scattered and flung as Percy worked on flipping the gate off the stairs. Poo up and down the stairs, up and down the WALLS, mushed into seam between the carpet and the molding. A troop of poo-flinging howler monkeys would have been impressed.
That was the first time I sat down and burst into tears. Starting on Paper Towel Roll #3 and realizing that I still had to pull off the sofa cover (I may piss and moan because it never looks neat and I'm always having to adjust it, but...thank goodness) and the pillow on the bench was going to have to be washed plus the two dog bed covers that I had just washed a week ago, that was the second time. The third time was when the Captain called to see if I was okay -- I'd warned him I would be late on an earlier call and I think he must have heard the edge of hysteria.
Sigh. He talked me off the ledge, I finished cleaning, fed and walked everyone, took a couple of hits of Visine, decided that I'd attend the event in camo (work clothes) and proceeded with the evening. Thank goodness, lots of smiling happy people, supportive friends, Loose Cannon and NO POO.