Particularly when the e-mails are nasty notes from pretentious east coast dudes with three names, who believe they�re the most important personage on the planet. (Not altogether unlike the academic who e-mailed yesterday, complaining she couldn�t get her hands on a copy of one of our books from her library for 3 weeks, and would I just pull the book, look at it and answer a few of her questions now, so she could finish her paper?)
You wanna swap lives for a bit, buddy? No? Well chill the heck out.
Chill being ironic there, you see, since I had to dig out the winter coat and gloves and remove several inches of snow from the car, as more was coming down, in order to go do my civic duty on the way to work.
So the snow in the hair yielded frizz, and given the massive facial eruptions, which have been a mainstay on my face for a good week, it was hard enough to have to face myself in the mirror.
(Bloody e-mail is noooooot new! Not new! Hear me? Leave me alone! I need a moment, lest I erupt in yet another prima donna fit this week! NOT NEW.)
You know how they say that the joys (read �lack of sleep�) of motherhood immediately wipe away all memories of the agony of pregnancy and birthing? Something similar seems to happen for me at work. I forget how much I detest the month of March, how insane it is for me, how ridiculous the endless urgent demands, which prevent me from doing the basic daily tasks. It�s in full swing now, this onward march of March, and I regret sincerely enlisting in this army.
In a few days, the p/t work shall commence in earnest, and while it doesn�t suck entirely, I�m altogether dangling on the end of my fraying rope already. Be ye ware.
(NOT NEW!)
I have this dream where things are normal, where I have time to paint and craft and cook that lovely pork tenderloin in the fridge into Pork Lombo and go for drinks and see bands, and it�s just beyond arm�s reach, but in the meantime, I have new e-mail!
Oh, wait. Nope, that�s my mistake.