I’m in Cleveland and I’m with you. I don’t get a vote, though. 
I was going to bed last night, it was late and I was tired. I didn’t turn on the bedroom light when I went in and sat on the side of the bed. What the hell? My hand touched something wet. After turning on the light, I discovered the dog had yakked ALL OVER the bed. Not just one or two spots, it looked like he had come back multiple times. So I changed the blankets, sheets and mattress cover. Put on clean sheets. Finally, I can go to sleep. I lay down and WTF, this sheet feels wet. I didn’t realize the puke had soaked into the mattress (gross!) and now the clean sheets are wet. So I will be spending my Friday night at the laundromat with tons of dirty bedding. Hooray! :mad:
Oh, poor doggie.
I do feel your pain, though, Francis. Our (mostly) housebroken dog will sometimes have accidents, and always on the bed. And of course, we discover this sad news when we are crawling into bed exhausted.
Warning. This is not mini. I don’t like going into the deepest darkest here … but … damn … fuck … <semi-incoherent swear words>
I want to cry. I want to scream. I want to hit someone in the fragile little bones of their face with my hardest balled-up fist, the one where I leave one knuckle sticking out for extra damage. I want to … it doesn’t matter. I’m at work, with swollen eyes and a messed-up face* because of OPD. Other People’s Drama. Guy On Couch = Emo Friend = oh, fuck it, I’ve bitched enough here. Dude is out of chances. That’s all I gotta say about that.
Well, no. I’m not done raging after all. rage: After all we’ve done for you? Come at my husband, and at me, in our own home? The one we opened for you for a quarter of a year? Calling us names, and worse? That light in your eyes and that hunch to your shoulders? My parents hit me - I know what those signs are. Oh … you’re stressed out? Yeah. Welcome to Le Club. Maybe I made shit worse - I lost my fucking temper, and when that happens … ! - in fact, I DID make it worse, I know that know, but … goddammit ** incoherent rage mumbling ** he started it …
- No. I don’t wear makeup. Not starting now. I don’t mean “smeared makeup.” I mean “damn, girl … slept lately?” No. Not really. Just very swollen, tired eyes. I hate crying. I hate being angry. I especially super-double-plus hate it when people deserve my anger, which, despite my little bitchings here, is actually hard to draw out in meatspace.
And you know what else? I knew at the beginning of the week that I’d be here super-late on a Friday? Now? I came in late, I’m too pissed to work well, I’m ranting on the Dope … how fucking late am I going to have to stay?
My manager (the one who swore this week (!) so things are really awesomesauce around here at work) is waaaay too patient with me. and with my reacting to OPD. and in general.
Oh. And I’d like to calm down. Not just to calm down but because … this weekend is MY FIRST WEDDING ANNIVERSARY. Eleventy.
Hey. You. The first thing you can do is stop feeling bad about the fact that you feel bad. It’s okay that you’re feeling angry and stressed and self-sabotaging. Don’t make it worse by feeling guilty about having those feelings.
Yeah, since I’m going to be open for a c-section anyway they will tie things up so I don’t have to worry about it again. That is part of the reason I wanted a c-section actually.
My mom will get over her sadness and learn to be happy with just one grandchild and I won’t have to worry about being pregnant again, so it will be win-win. It is just going to take me a little time to convince her of that I suppose.
No need to convince her, ppbth, the baby ought to take care of that. One baby will have to be enough.
My mini-rant is very mini, but it annoys me nonetheless. So I left home this morning, made a right turn onto the major road, and then came up to the light. As I was still about 50 yards away, it turned green…and the car that was sitting there just sat there. And sat there, even as I came up. Still, it happens, right? So I didn’t honk, and as I came up right behind, he finally turned.
So we go a few blocks, and turn on to another major road, and the dude comes to a dead stop in the lane. I can’t see around him, so I assume there’s traffic…until the uncoming traffic clears and he takes a left turn. BUT…this street has a center lane for turning! This time I honked, as he did not take the turn quickly either, but slowly drifted…get out of the damn lane! It’s a 40 mph road, you really can’t just stop like that! Use the lovely center lane they made! Asshole.
'Mika was driving behind my grandboss, apparently. About half of us in the office have a standing policy: “Ride with anyone else.”
Thanks, mischievous. Really. On top of everything else, 1) we’re super-behind and NiceSweetCoworker (25% of my team!) had car problems on her lunch break and might not be back in, and 2) shit blew up so fast and so badly last night that I forgot to take my stupid SSRI pill. Conked out without it (wtf?) and made a horrible noise this morning when I realized what I’d done.
Hell. It all came together in my brain a while ago. (I’m slow, and take a while to process Big Important Feelings.) Former Dude on Couch managed, last night, to piss me off worse than my own parents. I haven’t seen or spoken to my mother in, oh, around five years or so. You? WORSE.
(Took my SSRI on my lunch break b/c I couldn’t take the symptoms already. Be patient with me.)
Suckitude.
Sure. Typing it is the easy part.
Take care of yourself, and feel free to PM if you want to get anything out. I can’t guarantee to be helpful, but I sure can pay attention.
My left thumb is killing me and I can hardly do anything with it–not even hitch hike.
The doc thinks it is tendonitis and he shot some cortisone into the most painful spot.
For those of you who don’t know, cortisone shots hurt like hell. It feels like a paper cut with acid poured on top, and it goes on for a while. I sure hope it works.
He also gave me 9 Celebrex pills to take. I hope they don’t cause internal bleeding.
:mad::eek:
I’m sorry to hear that, purplehorseshoes. I assume former dude on couch is former friend now, too? Hitting me or my husband would be a friendship-ending action for me.
SurrenderDorothy, it sounds like you need some friends and roommates who aren’t heroin addicts.
Oh I love any hint of Karmic Justice.
The guy hired as my new supervisor four years ago who was promoted to Assistant Director on the very same day that I busted him to HR for policy violations; that ended up with all that being covered up and me being fired for a bevy of collected bullshit that was later expunged from the official records…
Has himself been fired. For reasons no one knows. Which usually means BAD SHIT WENT DOWN.
I’m so happy.
** pats Chimera on the back **
That’s awesome, dude. Glad you heard about it.
And, yeah, Cat, his stuff is in a bunch of trash bags on our front porch. Come and get it. Sorry it stinks of cat pee, dude - you’d been warned, there was one cardinal rule in our house: do not leave clothes strewn on the floor. We have an Enforcer. You leave your shit lying around everywhere, it’s gonna get peed on. Thems the rules.
He didn’t hit either of us, to be crystal clear. But he was thinking it loudly, yanno? Grr. Things were so cool for so long, and then bam! (His g/f had to go to a funeral today. Much stress all around. Still … no excuse.)
Yup, Time. To. Go.
I have too many weapons in my house. Someone who did this to me in my house would be asked to leave before they decided that the katana above the TV or the quarterstaff next to the bookshelf could be waived in my direction for emphasis.
Sucks to hear that what had been a tolerable situation turned so very ugly so very fast, but I have to say:
You’ve got an *adorable *enforcer.
<scritches>
What Morgyn said!
A week ago, I was wearing a short sleeved tshirt and standing in the shade because it was too hot in the sun. Fall hit on Wednesday. Today, I was wearing a sweat shirt over a flannel shirt, standing in the sun and wishing I had my jacket.
I really miss spring and fall.
That kitty would NEVER pee anywhere but in the litterbox. I can tell. Perfect angel.
Umm, Lynn, did you see the same pic I did? 'Cause I sure as hell saw a cat who would go drink more water just to have more ammunition to defend the honor of purplehorseshoe
She also looks like she could hork up hairballs in slippers on demand…
Oh, well that’s better, but not much. It sounds like he’s still got to go.