Last night I needed to blow off some steam. Badly. My office has been driving me nuts – everything from ongoing computer problems that IT has been ignoring to the constant lack of coffee filters in the kitchen. It seems like I’m the only person around here that actually cares if things get done, work right, and are caffeinated properly.
So I met the husband and The Friends at the pub. We drank beer, played pool and shuffleboard, watched the Red Sox (giving nasty looks to the Yankee fan at the other end of the bar – the bastard) and generally spent the evening ignoring that there was a debate on. I got my recaps from the late shows (kidding, but they had some damn good jokes.)
(Side note: I find the whole Bill O’Riley phone sex tape thing really rather funny. First Rush, pompass piece of shit that he is, and now Mr. O’Riley. It’s just funny. When will people learn? Don’t throw stones…I mean O’Riley was so full of himself during Monica-Gate and now, awe, isn’t it cute? It’s happening to him!)
I’ve cleaned my desk, somewhat, and I’m listening to Sade on the pod. It’s Thursday and even my slight too much beer and wine hangover headache has gone away. I’m feeling some ok-ness, but it’s very fleeting. Last night after I left the husband and The Friends at the bar I had a meltdown of epic proportions. The full body sobs and streaming tears and gasping for breath – a drunken anxiety attack apparently. It was horrible. I had this feeling that everything in my life was a complete crock of shit – from my marriage to my job to just my “life.” It seemingly was triggered by something while I was eating my bagel (dinner) and watching some Dream House show on HGTV.
I don’t like settling for things in life, but I also lack the drive, ambition, and hard work required to get more than the “settling” end of the deal. It’s like one half of me is this Type-A Achiever sort and the other half a Lazy-Ass Slacker. I can’t reconcile them. Plus, in the light of a new day, I don’t see things in my life as settling. I live good, ya’ know. Stop bitching.
But maybe I do need to lay off the Chardonnay when it’s peak PMS season.
