Yesterday was my birthday, another year older/wiser/wrinklier, etc. I woke up in a horrible mood, which is weird because as much as I complain I don’t mind getting older…I feel good, I know my health is great due to the many, many pokes and prods I am required to get ALL THE TIME from the military, and in general life is pretty okay.
But still, I was in a major funk all morning. It was raining outside, there was nothing on the radio I wanted to listen to, my coffee was not very good (no mocha, no madness), my monthly visitor stopped by unexpectedly, I had a final exam in Religious Studies - the universe was conspiring against me!
So what do I find when I walk into my office after two hours spent in the worst traffic ever? MILES of streamers & confetti; a pink and blue explosion of birthday goodness all over the place. And suddenly my whole day got a whole lot better!
Champagne! Triple Chocolate Brownie Cake! “Accidentally” switching the 3 and the 2 candles! Acing that one last final! More champagne! The Office & Lost!
One more week until I’m done with school.
Three more weeks until I’m done with this job.
Five more weeks until I’m deployed.
I’m not sure why this bothers me so much, but I cannot take it when people continue to talk on their cellphones while
going to the bathroom. Is nothing sacred?
I’m back at work after a day of recovery, and right now I’m catching up on my blog reading (v. important), doing a little shopping (obviously necessary), and trying to decide where I’m going to spend my lunch hour - or should I say my lunch 2-hour? Perhaps this afternoon I’ll do a little work but…probably not.
Another year, another tax season finished. My, how I do loathe numbers right about now. And a note to a fellow at my office who shall not be named: perhaps next time you come into my office to ask why I’m not finished yet, you could leave your beer somewhere else. The smell of middle-aged-accountant-Corona-breath is enough to make me want to vomit.
If one thinks one is going batsh*t crazy, is it a good sign that the craziness is actually recognized? Or would the truly crazy be unaware?
