Monday, January 23, 2006

Oh. My. God.

This is not a test of the Tiff emergency broadcast system.

Help me.

Just help.

Really, I need help.

This slithering sulfur-breathed nefarious beast called work is nearly killing me. I come back from a few LOVELY days in the Northeast, and there are 85 messages in my work e-mail, only 10 of which were garbage. Do you know what that means?

  • It means my inbox is overflowing with things people want me to do.
  • It means that the gobs of work I did over the last 3 weekends and weeknights need to be re-done because I didn't have the right information the first time I wrote all of what I wrote.
  • It means that the report for another client just complicated itself because they KEEP sending me stuff when I thought I had a handle on the pile I already had.
  • It means that the NEW project I was put on last week is heating up to full boil and I STILL don't have any idea what I'm doing and need to background it like a futhamucka in the next 2 days.
  • It means that still another client got all nervous because I went out of town and called my boss who asked another writer to cover my project when they client KNEW I was out of town and wouldn't be getting back to them until this week sometime, and the other writer had to take a few hours to write something that would have taken me 30 minutes to do, just to please the client.
  • It means that the report that is nearing completion must be sent for QC again, and I haven't even looked at the ancillary docs, which is part of my job.
  • It means that my usual 8 p.m. date with the couch and Mr. Jim Beam will have to be cancelled for the next few days. I hope he still loves me when I get the time to see him again.

I know I'm whining. I know it. But the whining is keeping me from breaking into nervous cackling laughter while my eyballs roll around in my head like I'm a cartoon character that just ran into a fake tunnel painted on the side of a mountain. Because man, that's what I feel like.

Y'all can't do more than say "chin up, old girl!" I know this. Just so you know, that's plenty of help right there.


Lines from the weekend:

"Oh Mommy, I love you"

"Hey, this place is really loud; let's go someplace else for the next beer."

"It's so good to see you!"

"Now where do I put all these clothes I don't want anymore?"

"I see your cousins!"

"Thanks for having him come to play, he's been looking forward to it."

"I'll bring you dinner if you'll provide the house."

"I love where you live. This is my dream house."

"I love you too"

Not necessarily in that order.

It was a blast, it was big fun, it was an explosion of good times, it was over too soon, and now I'm back here. At work. Again.



Anonymous said...

I hate that you had to come back to such an inbox after what sounds like a fabulous few days away. . .wish I could sprinkle some really cool pixie dust on it all for you.

Anonymous said...

Oh, and, p.s., had I known how bad it would be for you when you got back, I wouldn't have tagged you on my page today. Sorry. . . :-(

Erica said...

Welcome back! And Jim will always love you - he's good like that. Just think: sounds like you've got job security!