dizzy-dame's Diaryland Diary
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Please tell me tomorrow isn't Monday.
Sunday never really feels like part of the weekend. It's always that day before you have to go back to work (assuming, of course, that you have Saturday's and Sunday's off to begin with).
My plans for this weekend just couldn't hold themselves together, regardless of attempts to salvage them. This isn't a problem, in and of itself, it just added to the all around blahness. My weekend feels wasted, especially after spending four hours in the office yesterday.
Well, at least Farley still loves me. Right, Farls?
Bah.
7:31 PM - October 10, 2004
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Stop this crazy train.
Bad ways to start the morning:
Roll over and realize your daughter is in your bed, and she has peed in it. This is going to take up an additional 10-15 minutes of your morning routine.
Listening to your daughter attempt to hack up a lung. Realizing she probably suffers from the same post-cold sinus infection/nasal drip that you do, and the sound of this cough will be a fairly regular thing in your life.
Realizing, five minutes before you need to walk out the door, that the last thing you ate for dinner last night is looking to escape. In a most annoying and disgusting manner. Spend fifteen minutes in the bathroom. Now you are once again going to have to call your ride to work in the morning, and ask for the additional ride to his house to drop off your child.
It�s Friday, but due to missing work on Monday, along with not being able to get any of your own work done on Thursday because someone else is out of the office and you have to do their job, you are incredibly, terrifyingly, behind on your work. Thus, you are going in on a Saturday to, hopefully, get shit done.
Yes, I think it�s safe to say that all I really want to do is crawl back into bed, go back to sleep, and wake up in the Bahamas.
7:20 AM - October 08, 2004
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Randomly deep thoughts.
While sifting through the contents of the litter box with the handy dandy pooper-scooper, I can�t help but wonder if this is how they felt during the California Gold Rush days�
Hoping for gold.
Finding only shit.
9:55 PM - October 05, 2004
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It won't go away.
Yep. I�m at home.
I can hear money being flushed down the toilet. Wish I could flush my throat along with it.
I think the problem is my congestion. I�m breathing through my mouth at night. I took some allergy/sinus medication before going to bed last night, and when I woke up around 2 a.m., I actually felt pretty decent. Of course, it wore off between then and when I got up, and right now I�m back to throbbing ache. I sound funny, too. Our receptionist didn�t recognize me when I called in, despite me saying my name. I had to repeat it three times, only to be finally recognized with �Oh, sweetie! Are you sick?� Go figure.
If this isn�t better by tomorrow I am toughing it up and going to work, anyway. As best I can tell this isn�t strep or tonsillitis. I think I have a slight fever going on right now, but as my only thermometer got lost in the move, I have no way of telling for sure.
Ergh.
Honestly, I�d give anything to be healthy and sitting at work right now.
9:27 AM - October 04, 2004
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One more thing to bitch about.
Well, that's just great.
Diaryland decided to double up on the people listed in my favorites. So, a good number got purged without my consent. I've tried remembering everyone, but my brain is so fried that isn't going to happen.
So, if you find yourself missing, please don't be offended. Just let me know, and I'll put you back.
7:23 PM - October 03, 2004
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One big ball of whining bitchiness.
This is not getting any better.
I�ve spent the last 48 hours feeling fucking miserable, and there seems to be no relief in sight. I would gladly take a pair of pliers and yank out my throat, had I actually bought a pair of pliers when I moved in here.
It stinks, Jeeves. It really smells like poo.
The fever is coming back, too. I�m planning on throwing it a going away party, in hopes that it�ll get the damn point, pack it�s bags and get the fuck outta Dodge.
If I haven�t improved by at least fifty percent by tomorrow morning, I don�t see how I�m possibly going to function at work. I sound like I�m trying to talk around a golf ball, so I�m picturing the hours spent on the phone arguing with ass hats to be a real problem. Not to mention the possibility of infecting half the office (which while tempting, does not seem overly fair).
If the last two days have been any indication, I am recovering at a rate of about ten percent a day. It felt like more this morning, but as the day has worn on, that oh-so-assish feeling has returned. So, I get the feeling that I�m going to be calling in sick.
I have no more PTO.
Fucking wonderful.
Getting sick is going to cost me at least $76 bucks in wages.
I�m so happy I could shit.
And now my daughter is in hysterics because she broke a graham cracker in half. Nice.
Someone please come shoot me in the face. M�kay?
Misery loves company. Thus, why I have been updating all you lovely people this weekend, on absolutely nothing of value. Only pure bitchiness.
You can throw rotten fruits at me later, when I'm healthy.
7:15 PM - October 03, 2004
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In which we bitch.
You have not experienced frustration and annoyance until you�ve tried to upload 32 new images into your Dland account. Could the system be any more cumbersome?
Oh, well. I wanted a bigger rotation. With want comes sacrifice. Or some such shit.
Oh, and still? Gimme blood.
I�m seriously in need of a life.
12:14 PM - October 03, 2004
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I vant to suck your blood.
I can blame Franci for my addiction to this. She gets to blame someone else for hers.
That link will take you to a game, which is very crack-like. It will also give me pints of blood.
Yeah, I'm being vague here. I want you to click, don't you know.
C'mon. Donate some blood to the sickly one. She needs it. She does.
11:14 AM - October 03, 2004
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