Tag: work

I wanted to crawl in a hole and die. Then the check engine light came on.

Posted on | by cursingcats.com | 1 Comment on I wanted to crawl in a hole and die. Then the check engine light came on.

I has been a week. Let me tell ya. Monday I was so anxious and overwhelmed that I skipped work. I had watched 90 Day Fiance which was me and moms show. We both call each other to remind each other it is coming on and then talk about how crazy everyone is. And Natalie be CRAZY. Mom will never see how crazy she is and we cant talk about it. Who’s watching our show with me now? Just me and the cat, I guess. And he doesn’t care how crazy Natalie is, which she really is.

I’ve been hyper focused on the cat as a bit of a break from the far heavier death of mom. So of course I’m upset that even with all the changes, he’s still only got a life expectancy of 1 – 2 years. I assume that includes a lot of decline towards the end as well. So it’s difficult. I just gave him his fluids via stabby needle an hour or so ago. He’s resting in his bed next to me. With a big lump of fluid on his side. Poor guy.

Also, I’m anxious about starting vestibular physical therapy. With not having to drive much thanks to Covid, I had kinda of convinced myself I was all better. This is fine. Ya know? And acknowledging that I still get really sick driving is a hard pill to swallow. I certainly don’t want to go back to last January when I had to do my physical therapy exercises twice a day and got nausea and vertigo every time. It was miserable. So I don’t wanna. That’s basically what it boils down to. I don’t wanna.

Work’s been… bad, I guess? Honestly, I haven’t been working. I’ve been just getting though my days. I’m sorry, I’m just trying to not break down, yall. Like I said, Monday I didn’t even make it in to work. So my not-very-important task has been halted half done. But this is the last week of the sprint so my favorite coworker was assigned to help me with it. Of course DeBitch made a snarky asshole remark. DeBitch was one of the main reasons I didn’t go in Monday. I just didn’t want to deal with that shit. And of course I feel terrible.

It’s a team carry. I’m the teammate down and my team is carrying me over the finish line. It’s embarrassing and …well… embarrassing. I’m ashamed of myself. But then I also need the carry. So I’m grateful but also want to crawl up in a hole and die. Mostly the latter.

So I’ve got a lot going on that’s stressing me out. A lot. And then the check engine light in my car comes on yesterday on the way to work. God dammit, are you serious? So I have a scanner to read the codes — it’s some faulty circuit in the temperature sensor. But still, kick me when I’m down, will ya?

I just want to crawl up in a hole and die. Or to retire and crawl up on the couch and never leave the house again. That’s fine too.

Case of the Mondays

Posted on | by cursingcats.com | 1 Comment on Case of the Mondays

Ah Monday. Monday after a holiday break. It’s truly painful. Reminding myself to sit and make nine hours pass is just excruciating.

“You sit here, in this place that you hate, doing crap that you don’t like for nine hours. Don’t move until 4:30pm. Starting the clock… Now.”

No one on my team asked how my holiday went. I mean it was an absolute shit show and I had no intention of hiding that, but someone had to ask first. I don’t work with the kinda team that notices hair dye or asks how your weekend was. I work with a person who hates my guts and another who’s a squirrely micromanager. But DeBitch hates everyones guts so apparently that makes it okay. Yes, I’ve complained about her multiple times. Multiple people have.

Anyway, finally after lunch, a guy from another lab comes over to snipe some candy from the goody bowl. He asks the whole room how their break went and I took the opportunity to unload. DeBitch didn’t even both to offer a glance or condolences because she hates me. Who cares?

And the news just states the numbers. Over 350,000 dead in the US from Covid-19. Three hundred and fifty thousand people. Moms in that number. Just one in a massive sea of other faceless number ones. It’s almost insulting. I want to take insult. You mean 350,000 deaths PLUS MY MOM. She wasn’t a fucking number. But to most that’s all it boils down to. A massive pile of lives lost: people they loved, deeds they did, plans they had — they’re just a statistic to us. They don’t even care to keep track of the hundreds, tens or singles. In fact, we’re not even tracking thousands anymore. Just a single partial digit in an unfathomable number. A god damned fraction of a single digit. In a growing number that doesn’t even register much to anyone anymore.

I called my brothers wife on the way to work today. It was nice that she was expecting my call. She had asked me what time I usually go to work when we talked the other day. She asked me what time I’d be off too. I’ve talked to my brother and sister-in-law more this week than in the last two years, I’d wager.

My sisters don’t answer their phones or respond to text messages reliably. I wonder if we are destined to drift apart without our mother to hold the team together. Or is it just me drifting? My sisters currently live together and they’re chained to my brother for the sake of his children, our sweet nephews. I’d always complain about no one responding to my messages and mom always got mad and said “none of these people talk!” It’s true. But we all talked to mom. And mom kept us all up to date on the others. Now they don’t answer my texts.