I think I just fell asleep at my desk.
This getting up at 4:30 in the morning to do shit is NOT working out for me. I don't know how the insomniacs do it. Right now I'm hard-pressed to simply stare at the computer screen and not stab myself in the eye with the soda straw.
I'm mainlining diet Doctor Pepper to try to wake up. The 'white tea with orange' wellness drink I had an hour ago didn't do shit to keept the upper eyelids from slamming down, HARD, onto the lower ones, threatening to seal my eyes shut with their ten-ton force.
Thing 1 knows about machine efficiency and output, how to calculate them, and which one is expressed as a whole number and which as percent. He started spouting off about it in the car yesterday, and I was dumbfounded and awestruck. It was like he discovered a whole new language overnight, one that makes sense to him but leaves most normal people struggling with syntax. Because really? I never took physics, but he's got it all going on with the forces and motions and calculations of efficiency....he seems to think this shit is EASY. Doesn't he KNOW physics is supposed to be a jaw-dropping shock to your smarts system that convinces you that maybe being a waitress for the rest of your natural life is OK, as long as you don't have to massage some avoirdupois numbers of sines and tangents (wait, that's trigonometry) into a four-plexed mathematical equation to explain why water can't run uphill?
Apparently not. And it is at this point that I do believe he's surpassed me in the science-y stuff department. And me, with a Master's degree. In SCIENCE.
Let' me just say this right now to get it off my chest - I fucking HATE perimenopause. HATEHATEHATEHATEHATE IT! Go three farking months with no girly-goo action, ya think you're totally OVER it, and then get hit with the frigging tsunami of periods, big enough to swamp the pink plugs in an hour, draining enough to make your gums white, LOOOOOOONG enough to wonder if your uterus is ordering out for pints of blood. Holy shit, it's amazing! Starts with a little whimpery spotty crap, just enough to fool you into thinking that "this one's not going to be so bad," and then ba-BOOM! Ramps up in half a day to something that Carrie would have been pleased with at the prom. Sweet sainted cervix of Brenda Vaccaro (and man, if you're old enough to remember THAT reference, I'd like to shake your hand), it makes me miss the old days of one simple period-a-month-for-four-days thing. Y'all boyz don't know how lucky you are, and should count your freaking blessings, then pour a nice cold one for your lady love if you suspect she's in a similar situation. Believe me, she'll love you for it.
Today, as you might be able to tell, was not the day to nitpick at me. Sorry about the prickly way I treated you, Miss Quality Assurance Lady who just came to my desk to tell me I didn't tick a box on your laundry list of infinitesimal findings. Didn't mean to come across as such a bitch. But still, damn. Give a girl a break here. I forgot to put 'QT' in the abbreviations list? THE WORLD WILL END and we'll run out of food and children will be swept away by aliens! Everyone run around with your hands waving and an "O" face on! Panic in the streets over a missed abbreviation! It's horrible, the loose ends!
Y'all? Have a good weekend. I'm off to drown the snark in a double dose of whatever's closest.