Oy.
When a week crash lands, it makes Anakin and Hobbie look good.
I will spare you the rant I had originally intended to type up, which I wrote earlier today.
And I only spare you because those feelings of ill-will, though still bubbling, have a skin that is a tad thicker over them than they did this morning. Suffice to say that I was planning on staying home and sleeping today because my throat, after working a closing shift and getting home late yet again for the second day in a row, was killing me and my head was all heavy and sick feeling.
This did not happen because due to some miscommunication, my grandmother would have been alone all day had I stayed home so I had to haul ass out of bed once more at 7:30am.
I cried, folks, when my mom told me this. I seriously cried. My emotional tolerance this morning rivalled that of a 2-year-old's. I was cranky and exhausted and needed to sleep.
But. After hand-writing my verbally abusive note around 9am this morning and gaining a bit of a nap on my grandmother's sofa after lunch (I brought my own pillow, for the comfort/security factor more than anything. Yes, I'm 25 and still have the occasional security issues. I bring my Pooh Bear plushy with me when I stay over at anyone's house. I am not ashamed of this) and the watching of ROTJ shortly thereafter, that emotional tolerance graduated to that of a 6-year-old's, where it currently hovers.
To maintain this, I must sleep more, which means I am going to bed once I make a couple of phone calls to various family members to let them know I got in okay.
I will spare you the rant I had originally intended to type up, which I wrote earlier today.
And I only spare you because those feelings of ill-will, though still bubbling, have a skin that is a tad thicker over them than they did this morning. Suffice to say that I was planning on staying home and sleeping today because my throat, after working a closing shift and getting home late yet again for the second day in a row, was killing me and my head was all heavy and sick feeling.
This did not happen because due to some miscommunication, my grandmother would have been alone all day had I stayed home so I had to haul ass out of bed once more at 7:30am.
I cried, folks, when my mom told me this. I seriously cried. My emotional tolerance this morning rivalled that of a 2-year-old's. I was cranky and exhausted and needed to sleep.
But. After hand-writing my verbally abusive note around 9am this morning and gaining a bit of a nap on my grandmother's sofa after lunch (I brought my own pillow, for the comfort/security factor more than anything. Yes, I'm 25 and still have the occasional security issues. I bring my Pooh Bear plushy with me when I stay over at anyone's house. I am not ashamed of this) and the watching of ROTJ shortly thereafter, that emotional tolerance graduated to that of a 6-year-old's, where it currently hovers.
To maintain this, I must sleep more, which means I am going to bed once I make a couple of phone calls to various family members to let them know I got in okay.