Double-double-what!

Mleh, I say! Mleh.

With three weeks of double shifts behind me, (and all the construction to boot!) it's safe to say I've abandoned any semblance of adulthood, and reverted to my natural, bear-like state.

I should take the time to say that they aren't true double shifts, not in the eight hours at one, then eight hours at the other sense of the word. Instead they're sort of a hodgepodge of do all the work twice in as little time as possible-ness and endless driving. Which makes them, time-wise, more like a shift and a half, or a shift and a quarter, only with a million times the physical/mental exertion.

I love stress. I really do. I function really well when I'm challenged. My optimum function level is just a hair below the this-is-way-too-much stress trigger line. What this means is that I'm a machine when loaded with work...right up until I'm not. And then it's all over.

Yesterday was apparently the day my energy stores topped out. I just woke up totally out of spoons.

I could feel it coming on the night before. The sickly, you're-about-to-lose-your-shit feeling welling up inside of me. My reluctance to return home was a massive red flag. The fact that my toilet was leaking when I returned home may very well have been the final straw. Someone had been there to look at it, but now there was just a rag tied around the leaky pipe and a baseball cap on the counter.

All I know is I went to bed and woke up yesterday a thoroughly broken person. I was angry. Just horribly disgruntled, and all I wanted to do was sleep. I felt miserable on top of that. My back hurt and my ankle was all puffed up, that ever growing cyst staring back at me. The cats refused to be wrangled in the morning. I didn't have time to eat. I didn't get to finish my coffee. By the time R showed up to work I was pacing around, trying and failing to get things done.

There was just so much to do.

More than that, I wasn't able to do any of it. Some of it due to lack of time, some a lot of it due to not having the information or the power to get things done. All sorts of little things mocked me. I descended into the bowels of the sneaky hate spiral. R tried his damnedest to help me, but really, I was just beyond help.

It was a tire fire. Sometimes you just have to let it burn.

I left for the other hospital and called my dad. I cried and yelled and railed long against the night. So many things were unjust or unfair or just plain wrong and I couldn't stand it. None of the things that were wrong were fixable, and I HATE when problems don't have solutions. All problems should have solutions. Simple, straight forward, easily implementable solutions. I should clearly have power over all things, and all things should work they way I want them to. I dislike that they don't. Some days that's harder to deal with than others.

By the time I arrived to job number two I was feeling...not better per-say, but more like I could hold it together -so long as no one asked me what was the matter or tired to talk to me- than I did when I left.

They day went along alright. I was angry, but not altogether unpleasant. I smiled, or at least I tried to, and chatted with other people, albeit, much less than I normally might have. Things went along pretty well until Boss Lady came in. I love the Boss Lady, and damn it, I just want to spill my guts out to her all the time. I am a complicated monster, and I make so little sense to so many people, but Boss Lady just gets it. Even when she doesn't. Much like my dad. Unfortunately, this makes it difficult for me to refrain from spilling my guts out when we get time alone. I subsequently gave her the brief run down of things I was angry about, which for the record, was all things. It did not make me feel better. Mostly it just reminded me that I was in fact, angry and that there was a long list of things I was angry about. It also may have stressed Boss Lady out a bit, I'm not sure. I knew better, but it couldn't be stopped.

I was exhausted. Hungry. In pain. Frustrated. All sorts of things. And no matter what I did, it was spilling out all over the place.

I left job two to head back to job one and finish up my work. R was a saint, and had done most of it for me while I was away. He made me feel slightly better, only because he noted that I looked exhausted, and for the most part, didn't poke at me.

I went home that night to find my goldfish were dead. As I flushed my little fish friends, I noticed rag and cap were still in the bathroom. This was just the last straw. I called the office in tears. I was calm and polite, but the anger and frustration was still evident in my voice no matter how kindly I spoke. the woman told me the issue had been resolved the day before. I told her there was a rag tied around the pipe, and someone had left their hat here, and for the past four weeks I had put up with an insufferable amount of construction and people I don't know crawling around my apartment, tearing up my walls and touching my stuff and I was really REALLY tired, and I just wanted my house back. She was very kind, and said she would make sure everyone was out of my place the following day.

I promptly passed out.

I woke up today feeling better, but still not right. I hurt more than the day before, and my mood was still low, but things got done today, which was victory.

I worked all day and then I picked up my sweet dog, who I have missed more than I can describe. I hung out with my dad for a while, and came home. As promised, the construction is finished on my apartment, and I can make it mine again.

I tried to shave Oscar, but it turns out that he has far more hair than even I had anticipated. His hair is much shorter, but he is by no means, shaved.

I meant to put my house back together today, but I thought, mleh. Instead I'm going to sit on the couch. I meant to go grocery shopping, but I decided I can live on ramen and fish sticks for another week. I was going to put the laundry away, but I decided it was easier not to. I was going to do the dishes, but realized it required standing, and moving my limbs. I was going to read more Solzhenitsyn, but I decided the book was too far away, and full of too many words.

Instead I've been sitting around in my unds, eating fish sticks, and not doing anything of import. I sat down to write this note to you, and it's turned into a novel again, somehow, and I lack the energy to finish it now. Lol.

I guess that's the way of things. I'm hoping tomorrow I wake up with more spoons. I'm hoping my sunny disposition is back. I'm hoping I can drink enough coffee to power me through these last two days of doubles. And I'm hoping I pass out as soon as I publish this.

I have more to say, but not enough time or energy to type it out. Plus, this is more than long enough already.

I miss you terribly Dear Friend, as always.
Come visit me soon.

All my love,
LittleFoot.