Wednesday, May 16, 2007

Can you find it in your cold, blackened hearts to forgive me?

If you're anything like me, (and I suspect you are,) you don't have a real heart. Instead, you've got something resembling a black lump of coal, (which smells suspiciously of bacon,) where your heart once was. (Your real heart hasn't been there since puberty, and we all know it!) I assume that whether you admit it or not, there is a part of you which is more than a little twisted, horrible, and wrong, and that is the part of you that keeps you coming back here to read my musings. (I know that some of you are remiss to admit that this part of you exists, but I'll tell you something, I wouldn't have you any other way!)

Anyway, I apologize for my recent absence. Truth be told, lately I haven't been feeling too sparky. I'm not ACTUALLY SICK, which would at least be a valid excuse, but rather I've just not felt like myself.

You know that detached, weird feeling you get when you take too much cold medicine? Take that feeling, only subtract taking any medicines of any kind, add a TOTAL lack of appetite (well, actually, I do occasionally have an appetite, but when it comes time to eat I just don't feel up to it, or nothing sounds the least bit appealing,) then add exponential amounts of unexplained exhaustion (expected amounts caused by work, the move, and then additionally whatever it is I've got going on physically,) only when I try to sleep or even just rest, I can't... and when you total it all up, the bottom line is that I've been feeling wonkier than Paris Hilton's left eye.

Basically, I feel like dog shit, but it's still "technically healthy" dog shit... I ought to know, I asked the vet.

And so the long and short of it is, I haven't felt like sitting down and composing a post telling you that I feel gross, but am not actually sick... I know I'm not actually sick, because at no point have I felt compelled to lie completely still on my kitchen floor. (Don't ask, I can't explain it, but laying on my kitchen floor has always made me feel a little better when I am genuinely sick... It's just one of my things. And in this instance it is not applicable.)

In other news, my work schedule is in total, complete, and utter turmoil at the moment because one of my clients bailed on a visit, failed to go to court-ordered rehab, and is about 1.5 days from a jail sentence if she doesn't turn up, another client is skipping town for a weekend, one case has changed to the point where I am only a glorified taxi service, and another case has closed out. So basically, my whole week is JACKED. I don't know what I'm going to do with myself... Though now that I've publicly stated that I've got this kind of availability, I can guarantee with 98% certainty that the shit will once again hit the fan. (I know that this will happen, because that's how this job works... When you think for even the slightest moment that you don't have jack squat to do, suddenly you find yourself in the middle of a shit storm.) It's accepted as a reality of the business. (And that is exactly what happened two weeks ago, and I know I've yet to tell you all about it, but I promise I will get to it... The wonk has prevented it this week.)

I suppose in my last little blurb of information I should let you know about my softball team. We finally got the details. We ARE in the same league as DCS, so we will get to make all kinds of inappropriate remarks during at least one game this season. We also finally nailed down a team name... And I LOVE IT. Our team's name? "MEDICATED." Seriously, if you know anything about the social services industry, you HAVE to see the humor in that team name!

And in closing, I will leave you with a QOTD:

[While sitting at a red light a guy pulls up and revvs his engine like he's wanting to race when the light turns green.]

Liz (on the phone): "Oh my god, this lame ass just pulled up next to me and is all revving his engine like he wants to race."
Kirsten (on other end of call): "Is he at least in a decent car? Or could you totally smoke him?"
Liz: "Umm, I think it's a Corolla... But that's not the point!"
Kirsten: "A COROLLA? DUDE! DO IT! Blast him out of the water! He needs to learn he can't be pulling up like that in a COROLLA."
Liz: "The light just changed. I'm not racing him. And I'll tell you why. -- One, I am not 16. I don't feel the need to prove myself on the road. I think we all already knew how that race would have ended if it had had two willing participants. And, more importantly, two, HAVE you seen gas prices lately? I'm not going to gun it and waste 84 cents worth of gas just to beat some punk at a light!
Kirsten: "Damn, there you go again... Saving the world by not crushing egos or over-using fossil fuels... I think you deserve some kind of award!"

****Oh, and a side note to the smart ass who said she knew where we put my shower curtain, but didn't know I couldn't find it until it was already found: I've got a question for you! Do you happen to remember where we packed the little plastic thingies that support the shelves on my kitchen cart? I can't find them ANYWHERE!****

****Another side note to Jay (Canadian Jay, not Portland Jay) I did write to you! HONEST! And I don't mean to be self-absorbed, but the wonk also kept me from running to the post office, so your letter is on a bit of a delay, but it is coming!!****

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