Is It Really Only Tuesday?
Oh Wow. So far this week’s been completely deserving of a Wow. And the capital ‘W’.
I love plans. I love stress. I get more done in those situations than at any other time. But anyone who’s had the delight of dealing with me when I’m surrounded in my cotton-candy fluff-ball of a stress cloud knows that I’m a little… difficult. I was going to use monster, but it made images of the Cookie Time monster fly into mind and while it’s almost the same, I probably smile less. And I definitely don’t sprout off all that rubbish about guarantees or microwaving chocolate.
Over the few days I’ve been finishing off assignments, working through the horrible first-week-of-the-month (FWOTM) at work, breaking bones, accepting head-hunting efforts for mentoring at Vic in '09, packing to move and selling off all my gears on TradeMe. If it’s not on a to-do list written by yours truly the day before, it doesn’t get done. Simple things are forgotten. Like, I forgot my mascara twice this week. And the Pill everyday since last Thurs.
So not only is the chaos and stress playing games with my mind, my hormones are having a gay ol’ time playing havoc on, well, everything. So naturally, when your mind’s harassed and you don’t pump your body full of the hormones its come to love then you go all fuzzy (mentally, not literally - it’s not that bad) and forgetful. Which, in turn, only makes it worse.
Plus, I have a pizza face (that’s acne for those of you who weren’t in the loop in 1048).
I love plans. I love stress. I get more done in those situations than at any other time. But anyone who’s had the delight of dealing with me when I’m surrounded in my cotton-candy fluff-ball of a stress cloud knows that I’m a little… difficult. I was going to use monster, but it made images of the Cookie Time monster fly into mind and while it’s almost the same, I probably smile less. And I definitely don’t sprout off all that rubbish about guarantees or microwaving chocolate.
Over the few days I’ve been finishing off assignments, working through the horrible first-week-of-the-month (FWOTM) at work, breaking bones, accepting head-hunting efforts for mentoring at Vic in '09, packing to move and selling off all my gears on TradeMe. If it’s not on a to-do list written by yours truly the day before, it doesn’t get done. Simple things are forgotten. Like, I forgot my mascara twice this week. And the Pill everyday since last Thurs.
So not only is the chaos and stress playing games with my mind, my hormones are having a gay ol’ time playing havoc on, well, everything. So naturally, when your mind’s harassed and you don’t pump your body full of the hormones its come to love then you go all fuzzy (mentally, not literally - it’s not that bad) and forgetful. Which, in turn, only makes it worse.
Plus, I have a pizza face (that’s acne for those of you who weren’t in the loop in 1048).