Bad day. Really, really awful. I did a terrible screw-up at work -- I can't even articulate how bad it was -- and my boss was great about it, as always -- but I spent most of the afternoon on the verge of tears and wished I could turn myself into something about an inch tall so I could hide under the copier or get eaten by the dog.
I knew it wasn't going to be a good day -- I woke up twenty minutes before I had to leave, so no shower, no coffee, drove to work in a blazing hurry through the dissipating fog of bad dreams, had this awful sense of forboding all day, the temperature plummeted forty degrees overnight and was windy and sour and overcast. N.g.
Won't know for another month how bad it really was. So I'll be kind of on tenterhooks until then.
I need something very strong to drink.
It was one of those days of which I like to say, "This one was planned at a board meeting in hell. And somebody got a promotion."
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
Part heaven, part space (and yes, I've found my place)
Hey there, void. Hey there, bots. Blogging is dead, but I'm not. I'm still alive, and still here. Hard to believe how much has happe...
-
To everyone in California as it burns: I'm thinking about you. I hope you are safe. Please be safe.
-
Very packed couple of months. I'm still slogging through the worst depressive spell I've experienced in about eight years. Gettin...
-
This song by Gillian Welch is just absolutely beautiful. I sing it in the car on repeat a lot (made even more fun because I've determine...
3 comments:
Oh Sarah, I'm sorry. I had three or four of those days at the paper, and in one of my more literary moments decided to call them Rappaccini's Daughter Days, as in "I shouldn't be let out because everything I touch dies." Here's hoping it's not as bad as you think. Good luck, and enjoy that drink.
Ugh. It wouldn't be so bad but for the possible repercussions on others.
Rappaccini's Daughter Days -- what a GREAT title! I think I'll be adopting that one. I also style myself, though I'm not the first, obviously, to do so, the Anti-Midas on days like yesterday: Everything I touch turns to shit.
But today's a new one, I'm alchemizing all my worry into prayer, and taking the words of Christ to heart: "Therefore, do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own."
Truer words never spoken, eh?
And the champagne was excellent.
Sorry to hear about your day Sarah. I've had days like that myself. I wrote a blog post last year about a big mistake I made in the lab and how stupid I felt, but in the end, it really didn't matter, and when I left that job, my boss remembered only all of the great work I'd done, not the occasional boneheaded move. Keep your head up. :)
Post a Comment