... and until today I really couldn't dredge up enough energy to care. It's been a week. A week, a week, a week from hell.
On the way home from work today I was thinking, "I wish I could just be numb for a while." And then I thought, no I don't really mean that (visions of being paralyzed running through my head, and that's not what I want, don't strike me down and make that my new reality, please. Can anyone say paranoia?). What I really mean is that I want to have a break from being so irked and thoroughly bothered by everything at work lately. Or I want to not feel that total ICK feeling that seems to be plaguing me every day at work. Don't wanna, don't wanna, don't wanna, don't wanna be there. Don't want to deal with the b.s. and the politics anymore. (Say it with me, "No more bullshit!").
Yesterday I spent the whole day with my headphones in with the iPod Touch cranked up GOOD AND LOUD. Me. The girl who really hates to have earbuds in my ears -- even though I have the most expensive ones known to man (Bose) and I HATE loud music (even if the sound quality is phenomenal with these buds). Still, I hate wearing them. Ick. It's making my ears feel itchy just thinking about it.
But yesterday you could barely pry me away from them. Being plugged in to my ipod was the only way I was able to keep my butt planted in my chair in tan-cube-ville without running screaming down the hall.
One thing after another. Not big things, just things. And all of them seemed to be more than I could handle. Stupid things. And yet, telling myself that they were indeed stupid things and they don't matter, and that I'm getting all worked up over NOTHING that really matters in the scheme of things didn't help. Nope, that didn't help at all. I know all this. Yet I kept right on clenching my jaw, cranking up the music, and tearing up while trying not to tear up. Stupid, stupid reaction to getting mad. Crying. Oy. Spare me. How girly can you get? (Not that I have anything about being girly, but it's SO not me)
I almost bailed out on the girls night scheduled for last night because I was feeling so crappy. I didn't feel like putting on a happy face -- and if my day was any indication I wouldn't have much success even if I tried. But friends understand that it's not all happiness and light, and they let you feel how you feel. Right? Well sure, that's true. But the fact of the matter is that I didn't want Rico Suave to tattle to my sister that I had bailed on a night out and went right to bed after work again. She's likely to drag me out in public in my pajamas with a bedhead hairdo that looks like a hot mess if she thinks I'm acting up (or down, as the case may be).
So I went.
And it wasn't all about me (I know, shocking, right?). It was a little bit about all of us. And a little bit about that "milk-a-what" Lindsay Lohen, and OMG is she crazy or what? And it was about reconnecting.
Last night we had "Oh-oh" moments, "Awwww" moments, and loads of belly laughs. We found a lot of humor in a fun game of "Fictionary" even if we need to pass the 'readers' (magnifying glasses) around the table so we could read the teeny-tiny print in the dictionary.
We talked about life challenges, stalkers from elementary school, work, fights, anniversaries, the earthquake in Chili, and Greek yogurt. We broke bread, polished off a few bottles of wine, and we 'crafted' definitions to words we plucked from the pages of our dictionaries. Quirky, funny definitions that involved an odd assortment of elements:
... a quince-firing gun
... tossed coconuts
... hot mustard poultices
... storage rooms next to the Rectory
... 500 Irish mermaids
And laughter. Lots and lots of laughter. Especially when it came to the "two tickets to that thing you love" guy from the Old Spice commercial that I had yet to see (and if you haven't seen it you have to here and watch "The Man Your Man" commercial -- OMG it's just as funny as it seems when Pam was acting it out last night).
I needed that. And I needed for the fun to continue today as I met another group of gals (and Glenn) for lunch.
Thank goodness for friends, laughs, and a full 24-hours without tears.
FYI: I didn't need the 'readers,' but I would have needed my glasses to drive home if Rico Suave hadn't been my taxi service. Thanks, Rico. You da' man.