Momma's Not Smiling 'Cuz She's Happy

I have begun singing the chorus to "They're Coming to Take Me Away" with increasing frequency, and at increased frequencies. There's nothing like being surrounded by utter chaos to keep you teetering at the edge of the abyss. I've been driven past distraction and headlong into madness.

Need proof? Alright, then.

First, there's the fact that I have a couple of co-workers that firing would be too good for. All attempts at reporting said co-workers have been meet with sneering and condescension from those on high. Stress levels have risen to the potential of either a full scale lawsuit or a mass walk-out by at least 7 employees. [We have less than 15 employees.] I'm personally praying that we're bought out by a competitor and laid off. It would certainly be less stressful. Second on the prayer list is that a random tornado strikes one weekend (while the building is blessedly human-free) - and that our half of the building is laid flat and unrepairable. I think it's good to dream.

Then, there's the grouchy, hacking, 13 year old incontinent dog that runs away when I attempt to diaper her. It's not like I enjoy this stuff; I just don't have the desire, time, energy or funds to continually change all of the flooring out in my house. I was down to the last (disposable) dog diaper tonight and found myself muttering, "Dog, I will staple this thing TO you if you don't STAND STILL!"

I am also experiencing a rapid, violent decline in my health. I am crashing/passing out earlier every night, even with the distraction of loud, obnoxious television. This crashing is generally while wearing flannel PJ's, socks...and having the heated mattress cover on High to keep the chills away. I am also wearing sweaters constantly during the day.

Please bear in mind that I live in Eastern North Carolina. Temps this past week (when sweater wearing has increased) have ranged from the high 70s to somewhere in the 90s. These temps do not include the heat index...which is pretty much the southern, summertime version of the wind chill factor.

On the upswing, however, exsanguination occurred today without a hitch. I return to my Beloved Dr. Yup-Yup next Tuesday for the results. Here's hoping that Humira hasn't rendered my liver to cottage cheese. Ditto for my kidneys. I'm hoping for something interesting, at least. Mass organ failure, which I can only imagine sucks, is simply not odd enough for me. Maybe my platelets have grown knives. It would certainly explain why I feel 'stabby' all of the time these days.

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Next Friday, wisely taken as a Random Day Off, shall be celebrated with a belated trip to visit the Big Plates. [Is it wrong that a morning spent in a hospital is somehow more palatable than an entire day in the office?] This trip, while not the most thrilling aspect of being Female, will include face time with one of the funniest, hippest x-ray techs in the Greater Triangle Area. Seriously, local gals. This chick brings great laughter and snark to such a serious job, and somehow makes time fly by. When you're standing half naked in an ice cold room, humor and distraction are worth their weight in gold. Believe me.

I'd tell more, but the geriatric, incontinent dog just walked by...without her diaper. Where's my stupid stapler?!