Caterwauling

Then I am not working this weekend.

I have to face my boss tomorrow. To say I haven’t worked on the damn Thing that goes out in his name.

In 14 months, he’s given me two ideas.

The first time we executed on his idea, he didn’t hate it. Which is as good as receiving a Nobel Peace Prize.

The second time we executed on his idea, he didn’t love it. But this time, I dropped the damn ball and didn’t even edit/publish it.

I could get canned for this one.

He hasn’t noticed in three weeks but I have to say something soon.

I was going to just write it tonight.

But you know what? Your girl is tired.

This fucking project ruined the first part of my California Adventure/Disneyland trip.

It’s ruined many an Orlando weekend.

At least it didn’t fuck up my Tokyo time. Too much.

But I am tired of this thing ruining my nights and weekends. Not by working on it. By worrying about it.

I will die on the hill that it’s my No. 1 job to remove roadblocks for my team.

I’m going to see how this one feels about removing this roadblock from me.

I know the answer. My “attitude” is well-documented.

I know I complained about not being involved in a product launch two years ago for a product I now write every week.

But I was specifically told that THIS product would require no editorial. And I’ve made no bones that it actually DOES and I am not happy about that.

I understand the need for the product. Not the comments from the boss that we have to divine most months.

I also know it would take 2-3 hours tops to figure out.

I am not excited about that. I can find anything else to do. And instead of say catching up before the final exam, I’m draining a half-empty bottle of wine.

I think about it, like what if this is the thing he fires me for.

And then I think, WORTH IT.

I hate feeling that way. And no it’s not worth being unemployed for. But if I had a staffer who had an allergic reaction to a task, I’d sure as shit LISTEN to them about how to make it suck less.

I have ideas. I just shut up about them.

Oh what the hell. If I could get canned anyway, what do I have to lose.

I am sick of hating a project more than I hate dealing with Don’t Treadmill on Me. She should be peak annoyance. And will be, come Tuesday and every Tuesday thereafter.

At least I get the satisfaction of being able to hang up on her again.

All I am asking is to hang up on this thing that I am just the only person — not the right person, apparently, as the only time I met deadlines was when I was writing it — to handle.

Logged into the health portal and got the news:

No cancer detected.

I cried.

I mean, work will be what kills me, mark my words.

Just glad it won’t be the big “C.”

If I could make any wish right now, it’s that mom didn’t have to hear that she had cancer.

Especially how she had to hear it alone because I wasn’t allowed into the ER with her.

It wasn’t even that it was covid, it was that they had a dick cop at the front who told me to leave. And when I did get there, they shamed me for leaving because their policy was to let in next of kin.

Anyway I am glad to be out of the Baptist health system and into a better one.

I just wish we had done the same for mom.

Like, we didn’t take her to Moffitt because it was Tampa. But Baptist forced us into this world tour of Miami.

I know I should be relieved but now I have to go sit through a full day of meetings and then no doubt get yelled at tomorrow for a project I have slacked on for over a month that makes the publisher look bad.

Wasn’t my intention. But you know, I may be cancer free but mom’s still dead and I’m still so, so scattered and shattered.

Like the sign I just put on my door before I made my health appointments, “Aren’t you tired of learning the same lessons over and over again?”

I really am.

So tired.

Oh well. Treadmill time! (On Teams, not me.)

Also, no shit, Sirius.