I quit this week
I don’t even care it’s my birthday tomorrow.
My parents mailed me a box full of presents and I left work early just to pick it up. Thanks to traffic and shitty Australia Post hours (which are totally unrealistic for anyone with a job) I got here 4 minutes after they closed. Which means I don’t get any presents from my family on my birthday, since I don’t have time to go tomorrow.
Yes, I am now crying in my car in the parking lot. Seriously done. I just want to stay in bed and read Harry Potter for the rest of the week. That’s cool, right?
And then my oven broke.
I mean, really, what have I done? After my Monday, I was sure that my next few days - or week, even - would be okay. My oven is my life because baking is so important to me, and such a critical stress release.
It’s my birthday on Thursday. And my dad is having major surgery on Wednesday, so the homesick is even worse than normal because I want to be there for him.
I’m so overwhelmed by suck right now that I legitimately don’t know how to handle it. My instinct is to curl into a ball in my bed and surround myself with my cats and books until I feel better. But this is the real world, so I have to keep going to work and getting things done.
If I were a religious person, I think I’d say “God, I know you won’t give me more than I can carry, but you must have a lot of faith in me right now.” Since I’m not religious, I just have to think something in the universe is fucking with me right now.
Today has sucked so hard. I’m done.
Day started with news that one of our friends passed away over the weekend. Still waiting on the official cause of death, but it looks like an overdose. This guy was smart, and funny, and interesting, and he’s just gone.
Add to that the rest of my day and I’m just overwhelmed and done: Hubby is unexpectedly working in Melbs this week, possibly missing my birthday Thursday. Then work went to absolute hell in a hand basket, reminding me that I’m in way over my head. And came home to find that our cleaner accidentally locked one cat outside and the other in the spare room all day, without food or water. An hour later and they’re both still screaming at me.
Years ago, a friend gave me some good advice that still holds true: Have a drink and go to bed, tomorrow will be better.
I don’t care if it’s Monday. I’m having wine and going to bed. Tomorrow has to be better than today, right?