I hate to say it, but the last whisps of my emaciated patience seem to have completely evaporated over the course of the last couple of months. I am now riding on the rims, clinging to the ragged edge of sanity through sheer will power. And I don't have that much will left, either.
I'm serious! Everything is driving me crazy right now. You'd think after yesterday's deluge, I would be happy to see the sun come out...but you'd be wrong. See, it's shining right in my fucking eyes! I have these pale irises, yo, I can't take that much direct sunlight before my retinas curl up and start screaming for mercy.
And then there's the phone. Yeah, so it's my job to answer the phone; that doesn't mean that I'm happy to put up with every jackass in town and their idiot questions. No, I don't know when Dolly will be back from lunch. No, I don't know why she hasn't called you back yet. Most importantly, no, I don't care about your stupid office Christmas party that you didn't see fit to start planning until two weeks ago. Jeebs! And to the lady that called four times this morning, this is not Direct TV! It never has been Direct TV and it never will be Direct TV! When I answer the phone saying, "Good morning, Titanic Cruises, how may I direct your call?" please do not proceed to talk over me, bitching me out because I never showed up to check your satellite reception. And a note to all my faithful readers: never, under any circumstances, begin a phone call with "Uhh..." or any variation thereof, because when I seize power, that will be grounds for justifiable homicide. Plus which, that automatically gives the callee grounds to hang up on your ass. Write out what you have to say ahead of time if necessary, but don't "Uhh..." me, I implore you.
Also, and I know I already touched on this subject before, but I am not an engineer, electrician, mechanic, mover, repairman, husband, or otherwise indentured piece of human collateral. The printer did not start working again because I performed a miracle, it started working because I pulled that wad of burning paper out of the chassis. It wasn't that hard to find, either; I just followed the trail of smoke. Also, I know I previously mentioned my excitement over getting to drive my boss's really nice car, but that chore has quickly gone from being an exciting break in the day's endless monotony to a demeaning waste of time. I'm not a valet, either, I should point out.
Oh, and the other thing I'm not? A friggin' umbrella caddy. Not once, but twice yesterday, I had to help Dolly turn her umbrella right-side-out again. Who on this earth needs help to flip their umbrella down? What is she, Scarlett O'Hara? It's not like it's made out of solid bone or something! For the love of decency, woman, show some self-reliance! If you're 85 and plagued with osteoporosis and malnutrition, then I'll help you flip your confounded umbrella. But if you're just a young, perfectly healthy drama queen looking for sympathy, you can kiss it. And quit yapping about it to everybody who wanders through the office, too! In Chicago, my umbrella inverted itself about three times a week. You didn't live through the Blitz, you experienced high wind velocity. No, don't call the Times. The winds weren't that strong.
Ironically, I've also got no patience for people with no patience. If you're going to make me hang on a thread with your mood swings and your derisive eyerolls, you can damn well put up with me asking a question or two, or maybe not knowing how to perform some menial task you've never instructed me on before, or inquiring after your schedule since I don't have one in front of me; and before you sigh in frustration, maybe I have a good reason for wanting to know your availability. Then again, I'm just me, and this is all about you, so what the hell good reason could I have?
Oy. That felt good to get off my chest. Anyway, the holidays are coming, and with them a nice, long vacation. If that (along with copious amounts of chocolate) doesn't soothe the savage breast, I'll kill someone.