Crap-a-Lanche

“Have you ever been so lost
Known the way and still so lost?”

— Katy Perry, “Lost

Man, talk about knowing the way and not knowing WTF to do first. Am buried in what we shall heretofore refer to as “Crap-a-Lanche” (i.e., Crap Avalanche). Apparently we’re reorganizing a tad at work. And apparently that means giving up two projects and gaining 40.

The only other thing I will say about reorganizing, other than I’m grateful to have a job in this clusterfuck we call an economy, is that instead of having one person here and there say, “That’s not my job,” you now get the person who USED to do the task telling you that your request is no longer their job PLUS the extra-added bonus of the new person doing the task saying that it’s not their job yet.

*head —> desk*

I’ve donned what I call the cloak o’ invisibility — that is, I’m pretending to be on vacation so I can give the new projects a full week of love, as opposed to the neglect they were getting otherwise. Well, guess what? That just frees me up from the daily crap to deal with the other crap I never had time for. And have I made a dent in the projects I’m supposed to be working on? Oh HELL no. See “It’s apparently nobody’s job,” above. Since apparently I have to do it if no one else will.

Zoloft, can has?

“Table’s set
The beds are made
Seems I let them slowly fade
Here I am at winter’s birth
Called to from beneath the earth
These frozen songs beneath the street
Buying shoes to bind my feet
Once my face it scrapes the dirt
No one asks if I am hurt
I am hurt.”

— Tara MacLean, “Things Outstanding

Speaking of vacations, I’ve been looking forward to a combined work/pleasure trip. It’s paid for. It’s all non-refundable.

And then …

I heard a nasty rumor that the trip is canceled.

This came on the day when I got another notice from payroll that I’m no longer accruing vacation days because my bank is full.

I’m hoping I’m allowed to take the trip anyway, since it’s all paid for and stuff. I told folks that I don’t even care if the thing is canceled — just transfer my eight hotel nights to a D.C.-area establishment and don’t tell my Extended HouseguestTM that I didn’t leave town!

What really irks me is that I could have spent that money on another trip I’m trying to save up for. Just a weekend jaunt to see an old friend from college. And by “just” I’m lying and by “old friend” I mean “I don’t really know what we were, or what we are now, but I am determined to find out.”

“The pain is self inflicted
I know it’s not good for my health
But it’s easier to please the world than it is to please myself
Oh the rest is out of my hands.”

— LeAnn Rimes, “What I Cannot Change

All right, I feel mildly better that I’ve spilled my pumpkin guts today. And speaking of guts, or losing mine slowly but surely, I am pleased to announce that I no longer have to unbutton/unzip any of my jeans or dress pants to take them off because they are all falling the fuck off. Easy-access clothes, can has! 😉

2 Responses to Crap-a-Lanche

  1. Pisco Sours :

    I no haz Zoloft. Wellbutrin OK? I’ll share.

    And congrats on the pants falling off! Wear really pretty and/or scandalous underthings. You know, just in case.

  2. Red dress :

    Don’t leave us hanging – we want more about the college guy!