lazy and fat
April 04, 2006, 6:47 P.M.
Every time I find out I'm slated to learn a new task relating to this position, I get a little flare of hope within.
Hope that this new thing will be the thing. Hope that there will be some aspect of this job that is fun, interesting, engaging, or worthwhile. Hope that this position is not utterly and completely lacking in redeeming qualities.
No luck yet.
But for anyone who considers me a pessimist, this should proof enough that I'm anything but.
Since the powers that be at my employment were kind enough to schedule me for a long conference call meeting over my lunch period, I decided to forego taking the break, and leave early instead. Screw it--if they can play fast and loose with my schedule, so can I. I can't see the point of respecting and valuing a company that is so overwhelmingly indifferent to me. Who knows? Maybe I'll get lucky, and they'll fire me.
I took a Percocet for my sore neck before bed last night, and so was fortunate in getting a period of good, deep sleep. It wasn't as long as it could have been, though--I was awakened at 2:48 am, by my Spouse stumbling in after a very long work night. Normally, he'd be getting home around midnight, but he worked overtime to make up for the Sunday mess. I got to say hi and give him a smooch. And I asked how the new shoes were working out--he gives them a thumbs-up.But all sleep after that was fitful at best. So I'm still moderately exhausted. I guess the Lexapro must be starting to work though, because I'm not getting the gnawing anxiety or weepy, black despair. I feel awfully flat, though.
I'm hoping that improves. I miss the person I was last year at this time. She was not perfectly happy, and she was in a considerable amount of physical pain, but things were better than this.
And I'm still fighting this horrible lack of self-control with the eating. All I want to do is eat, even though the meds have killed the actual physical hunger.
And I'm not talking binges on high-fiber cereal and fruit, here. Candy, cake, french fries, pizza, ham sandwiches, cheese and crackers--not a healthy choice in a carload.
I think I need a shrink.
And bigger pants. I popped the zipper on my favorite black pair last Friday, and I just split the ass out of my khakis a few minutes ago.
I'm so fucking disgusting.
Reading: "A Cry From the Dark", by Robert Barnard. Also, "Grave Mistake" by Ngaio Marsh.
Listening: XM, "Fred". Charlatans UK, China Crisis, Split Enz, XTC.
Beading: Attempting the Quadruple Helix stitch.
One Year Ago, I hurt.
At Random: click here
|