Friday Is Not MyDay

I’m writing in hopes it makes my day a bit brighter. I figure it can’t get any worse. I think I need to go on Prozac, not everyday but these types of days get me so melancholy. It’s really a combination of a lot of things, mainly it’s my Fantasy Baseball team sucking so bad, no-just kidding. It started with PJ waking the house up at 5:30 this morning, she went back to sleep but I could not. I sat in bed with a sore back thinking about what else…work. There’s so much inequity there I just can’t stop thinking about how mismanaged that place is. I don’t want to go into details but between that accompanied with my workload and the politics that I have to assume with the analysis I provide drive me to place where I think I need to snort Prozac on an intermittent basis for a while, maybe mix it with a couple glasses of wine while I’m at it.

So I get to work, trying to finalize next year’s budget, make a call to Finance to resolve a utility billing issue that was brought to my attention by the Water Foreman and the lady I’m trying to work this out with (Utility Billing) is acting like a complete witch unwilling to help with the situation. I couldn’t take it anymore; I went down to see the Finance Director and demonstrably communicated my desire to (non-sexually) drive my size 10 where the sea refuses no river. Okay, I just whined a lot and let his office with a resounding, “aw shucks, I just need to vent Mr. Finance Director, I don’t want her to get into any trouble”. Now I’m exaggerating both sides of the story. Anyhoo, I get this kind of attitude after donating all of Monday and part of Tuesday bailing their behinds out of a detailed federal audit that they could not deal with appropriately. I want out! Between them and my inept superiors who run the office with the efficiency of a Bush Administration-led war in Iraq, I have come to the conclusion that people suck…simple as that. I’ve also come to the conclusion that engineers make terrible administrators, which I’ve learned through every position I’ve had for the past 15 years.

And to make things worse, I go home for lunch to hang out with PJ and she dumps her glass of milk in my lap and has a good laugh.

I can't wait 'til I'm 90 years old at the dinner table and I puke in her lap leaving her with this disgusting pile of regurgitated green beans, mashed potatoes, and cranberry juice.

Payback.