Holy Wanktastic, Batman
LJ is such a repository of angst already, I probably can't make it worse.
Last night was depressing and long. TL;DR: Sadness is sad, disappointments are disappointing, and relationships are hard. Also, Fate's a bitch, and we're sick of her crap.
Coming home after midnight was probably a bad idea. So as compensation for histrionics and not sleeping much, I let myself sleep in. However, as I was only able to budget about 10 minutes for said sleeping in, it didn't help much. Getting up at 6am sucks a bowl of dicks.
Grandmother bothering me this morning when I'm still depressed and half-dead was annoying. I was not particularly communicative, and found out that when I ate something, I felt like I was going to throw up. Happy Happy Joy Joy.
Work was tiring and we didn't get much done. All we really had planned for the day was stripping the wax from the 6ft-by-6ft square of tile in front of the main doors. It didn't take very long, and a lot of the rest was filled with moving furniture so we can clean carpets tomorrow, and sitting around, doing not much of anything. My cousin's decision to come to work with Aunt Barb today was not appreciated. MIP girl (she has to do community service for the MIP, so she's getting it by taking away our work hours and money rather than cleaning toilets in the jail) was typically uninterested. I still felt like throwing up when I ate lunch, and was miserable from allergies because my prescription ran out yesterday.
Finally left the school just after 2. Aunt Barb had an appointment at 3, but had to go to Belgrade to pick up some paperwork from some lady first. Fine, whatever. But it then turned out that she wouldn't have time to drop me off at home because she had to hurry to get to her meeting. So she calls Gramma to see if she'll come get me to take me home (Talking on her cell while driving, btw. Again. It pisses me off when people do that, and she does it a lot). But no, Gramma's watching the televised tribute to Tim Russert's death, and it's really interesting. Can't I just sit around in the building and be bored OUT OF MY FUCKING MIND while I wait for Aunt Barb to be done? *sigh*
Aunt Barb is nice and decides that she can take Huffine to get to her meeting, and drop me off at the Gooch Hill intersection. That way, I can just walk home along Gooch Hill and not have to sit and be bored. It makes her a little late and isn't as convenient as going across Flander's Mill, but she'll deal with that. So we get there, I jump out, and start walking.
It's about a half-mile, maybe, to get to my house. Along the road, where fortunately traffic is light and people are willing to move aside so they don't run me over. Hot sun is hot, headache is growing, and allergies are awful.
I get home, and Gramma's sitting there, watching the fucking tribute thing. And don't get me wrong, I'm sure Tim Russert was a great guy, and it's really sad that he died so suddenly. I feel sorry for his friends and family. But Gramma never knew the guy and never, to my knowledge, watched him on tv unless he guested on a show she does watch. I honestly cannot fathom why she cares so fucking much!
She went to town today, and picked up more allergy medicine. It's not my normal allergy medicine (generic Zyrtec rather than generic Allegra), but it's about $30 for 300 pills, rather than over $100 for 30 pills. There's a chance of it making me drowsy, a la Benadryl, but yes, getting it makes more sense. Never mind that I'm sensitive to allergy meds making me drowsy. Allegra and sometimes Claritin are usually the only ones that don't. So we'll see how well that works. I took a pill, but I'm hardly in any state to tell whether it makes me tired. My allergies do seem to have calmed a little since I got home, but then they usually subside some once I go inside and wash my hands/face.
I retreat into my laptop and music. Gramma rearranged the living room recently, and due to the new arrangement and the fact that we don't have wireless, I am confined to one chair if I want internets. It happens to be the uncomfortable wooden rocking chair that creaks ominously every time I move. The one that I'm always afraid is going to collapse under me, considering half of the springs from inside it are currently sitting on the kitchen table. I deal with it. Nothing else to do.
But honestly, headphones can only do so much, and mine are crappy. And I am cursed/blessed with very good hearing. So I can still hear the tv through the music. I can't drown it out without turning up the music to the point where it's uncomfortable on my ears. Speaking of which, the headphones then start hurting my ears (they're the kind that actually clips to your ears, so they press on the cartilage uncomfortably if I wear them too long). So I switch to my old over-the-head ones that only press on my head and add to my headache. It's a dull enough pain, I'll deal with it.
Even if I can STILL HEAR THE FUCKING TRIBUTE THING GOING ON THROUGH THE MUSIC. I UNDERSTAND THAT YOU ALL LOVED HIM, NBC, BUT IS IT NECESSARY TO HAVE AN HOURS-LONG TRIBUTE, THEN FOLLOW IT UP WITH A NEWS THING ABOUT THE TRIBUTE, WHERE YOU MOSTLY JUST WATCH CLIPS OF THE TRIBUTE?!
Then they have the news. Where they talk... about the Tribute. *headdesk. repeat until bloody.*
Also? I'm sorry, Brian Williams, but your speech was... very awkward. Awkwardly phrased, awkwardly read, awkwardly spoken. And his son's speech was honestly not as touching and brilliant as everyone is going on about. I personally feel like the "glass half full/empty" metaphor is way overdone.
Trying to go lie down just made my headache worse. And Gramma had the brilliant idea of having huge beer sausages in hoagie buns for dinner. Like giant hot dogs, sort of. Never mind that I have never liked hot dogs, and she knows this. Nor am I particularly fond of sausage. Or hoagie buns, for that matter, unless they involve french dip sandwiches. So I ate little, despite the fact that I feel like I'm starving. And then I still feel like I'm going to throw up.
And... now they're back to talking about Tim Russert and his Tribute. Even Keith Olbermann is presenting EVERY SINGLE FUCKING STORY in terms of how it relates to the fucking Tribute.
Goddammit make it stop.
Last night was depressing and long. TL;DR: Sadness is sad, disappointments are disappointing, and relationships are hard. Also, Fate's a bitch, and we're sick of her crap.
Coming home after midnight was probably a bad idea. So as compensation for histrionics and not sleeping much, I let myself sleep in. However, as I was only able to budget about 10 minutes for said sleeping in, it didn't help much. Getting up at 6am sucks a bowl of dicks.
Grandmother bothering me this morning when I'm still depressed and half-dead was annoying. I was not particularly communicative, and found out that when I ate something, I felt like I was going to throw up. Happy Happy Joy Joy.
Work was tiring and we didn't get much done. All we really had planned for the day was stripping the wax from the 6ft-by-6ft square of tile in front of the main doors. It didn't take very long, and a lot of the rest was filled with moving furniture so we can clean carpets tomorrow, and sitting around, doing not much of anything. My cousin's decision to come to work with Aunt Barb today was not appreciated. MIP girl (she has to do community service for the MIP, so she's getting it by taking away our work hours and money rather than cleaning toilets in the jail) was typically uninterested. I still felt like throwing up when I ate lunch, and was miserable from allergies because my prescription ran out yesterday.
Finally left the school just after 2. Aunt Barb had an appointment at 3, but had to go to Belgrade to pick up some paperwork from some lady first. Fine, whatever. But it then turned out that she wouldn't have time to drop me off at home because she had to hurry to get to her meeting. So she calls Gramma to see if she'll come get me to take me home (Talking on her cell while driving, btw. Again. It pisses me off when people do that, and she does it a lot). But no, Gramma's watching the televised tribute to Tim Russert's death, and it's really interesting. Can't I just sit around in the building and be bored OUT OF MY FUCKING MIND while I wait for Aunt Barb to be done? *sigh*
Aunt Barb is nice and decides that she can take Huffine to get to her meeting, and drop me off at the Gooch Hill intersection. That way, I can just walk home along Gooch Hill and not have to sit and be bored. It makes her a little late and isn't as convenient as going across Flander's Mill, but she'll deal with that. So we get there, I jump out, and start walking.
It's about a half-mile, maybe, to get to my house. Along the road, where fortunately traffic is light and people are willing to move aside so they don't run me over. Hot sun is hot, headache is growing, and allergies are awful.
I get home, and Gramma's sitting there, watching the fucking tribute thing. And don't get me wrong, I'm sure Tim Russert was a great guy, and it's really sad that he died so suddenly. I feel sorry for his friends and family. But Gramma never knew the guy and never, to my knowledge, watched him on tv unless he guested on a show she does watch. I honestly cannot fathom why she cares so fucking much!
She went to town today, and picked up more allergy medicine. It's not my normal allergy medicine (generic Zyrtec rather than generic Allegra), but it's about $30 for 300 pills, rather than over $100 for 30 pills. There's a chance of it making me drowsy, a la Benadryl, but yes, getting it makes more sense. Never mind that I'm sensitive to allergy meds making me drowsy. Allegra and sometimes Claritin are usually the only ones that don't. So we'll see how well that works. I took a pill, but I'm hardly in any state to tell whether it makes me tired. My allergies do seem to have calmed a little since I got home, but then they usually subside some once I go inside and wash my hands/face.
I retreat into my laptop and music. Gramma rearranged the living room recently, and due to the new arrangement and the fact that we don't have wireless, I am confined to one chair if I want internets. It happens to be the uncomfortable wooden rocking chair that creaks ominously every time I move. The one that I'm always afraid is going to collapse under me, considering half of the springs from inside it are currently sitting on the kitchen table. I deal with it. Nothing else to do.
But honestly, headphones can only do so much, and mine are crappy. And I am cursed/blessed with very good hearing. So I can still hear the tv through the music. I can't drown it out without turning up the music to the point where it's uncomfortable on my ears. Speaking of which, the headphones then start hurting my ears (they're the kind that actually clips to your ears, so they press on the cartilage uncomfortably if I wear them too long). So I switch to my old over-the-head ones that only press on my head and add to my headache. It's a dull enough pain, I'll deal with it.
Even if I can STILL HEAR THE FUCKING TRIBUTE THING GOING ON THROUGH THE MUSIC. I UNDERSTAND THAT YOU ALL LOVED HIM, NBC, BUT IS IT NECESSARY TO HAVE AN HOURS-LONG TRIBUTE, THEN FOLLOW IT UP WITH A NEWS THING ABOUT THE TRIBUTE, WHERE YOU MOSTLY JUST WATCH CLIPS OF THE TRIBUTE?!
Then they have the news. Where they talk... about the Tribute. *headdesk. repeat until bloody.*
Also? I'm sorry, Brian Williams, but your speech was... very awkward. Awkwardly phrased, awkwardly read, awkwardly spoken. And his son's speech was honestly not as touching and brilliant as everyone is going on about. I personally feel like the "glass half full/empty" metaphor is way overdone.
Trying to go lie down just made my headache worse. And Gramma had the brilliant idea of having huge beer sausages in hoagie buns for dinner. Like giant hot dogs, sort of. Never mind that I have never liked hot dogs, and she knows this. Nor am I particularly fond of sausage. Or hoagie buns, for that matter, unless they involve french dip sandwiches. So I ate little, despite the fact that I feel like I'm starving. And then I still feel like I'm going to throw up.
And... now they're back to talking about Tim Russert and his Tribute. Even Keith Olbermann is presenting EVERY SINGLE FUCKING STORY in terms of how it relates to the fucking Tribute.
Goddammit make it stop.