I just want someone to feel sorry for me

Hey look. It's March.

MIA because I'm working a lot and this desk has become what it always was. I've been on it for six weeks almost. I'd been kind of dreading it before I started on it, it being the desk it is, but the first three weeks were cake compared to what it normally is. And then, you know, all that changed and it started to show it's true colors. And now it's TOTALLY showed it's true colors and some other colors too, some lying, cheating colors and some very nasty ugly colors that should never show. Today was long and never ending and tomorrow will be the same. My guess is so will Thursday.

Plus too when I got home tonight I realized it was still only Tuesday. It felt like it should at least be Wednesday. I feel sort of cheated. Because since I thought it SHOULD be Wednesday at least, now I have to actually DO Wednesday and somehow that isn't fair.

I could tell you about Saturday and how fun that was, and then how I got to talk to one of my favorite people in the world on Sunday, and how even though I am not going to Mexico (did I tell you that?) in April, I might instead go to Cape Cod, but we'll see about that one, and maybe to Palm Springs, but if I do then that would make you not feel sorry for me. So instead I'll just mention that I'm working my ass off in the swan song of my time on this desk, and how I got dumped on by a drunk woman today that took roughly six years off my life that I'll never get back, and how I missed my eyebrow waxing appointment last Thursday with the Master of All Eyebrow Waxing because of this desk, and how I rescheduled for tomorrow at 11:40am, and announced to the entire staff as well as one realtor how there was NO way, NO file, NO CIRCUMSTANCE WHAT SO EVER that would make me miss tomorrow's appointment, only to get a call from Nordstrom tonight to tell me that the Master of All Eyebrow Waxing is sick, and can I reschedule for Friday? I did, but, for now, I cannot be responsible for my caveman-like eyebrows and their hideous unruliness while I close files like a mad woman for the rest of this week. It just isn't my fault. It's this desk's fault.

I'll get through it, I always do. But I won't do it quietly and I won't be happy about it. It will be colorful, no doubt about that, but that color might be a little bit off.