The frustration in my life right now feels almost palpable. I need to clean out the house, but it’s beyond ridiculous right now. It feels almost impossible at times. I want to do things, but I can’t. I could, but
I
just
don’t.
It’s a funk. It could be a depressive funk, but it’s definitely a frustration funk. A physical manifestation of frustration. I know it’s my own doing. Nothing is stopping me from doing things except my personal headspace. Honestly, it’s just easier to sit on the couch and bitch about the not doing things than it is to actually do the things.
Work sucks so completely that I don’t even give a shit anymore. I love the people, but I hate the company. We can’t do everything we need to with the hours cut. Rather than worry that we can’t do everything we need to, the company is worried about how many email addresses we collect.
I feel terrible because I know the frustration in my life expends outside my personal bubble. It affects everything around me. My family is frustrated; I know they think I’m a fucking idiot for staying after and through all this. StressedRPh has the burden of finding my replacement – eventually. I probably frustrate the cats; I probably suck as a cat mom to them.
I think this weekend might be a busy one for me, if I let it. And I need to let it be busy. It’s become incredibly difficult to limit my hauls to whatever I can pile in the dining room. I want to drag as I can outside, trash pickup schedule be damned.
This weekend’s weather should be nice and comfortable, and I think I should take the chance to build up my camp sleeping platform. I don’t expect that to be super difficult, especially since I have pallets to use.
Today, I need it to be a good shift. I want a nice, easy shift, where I don’t feel like strangling myself with a phone cord at some point. Some shaved steak is defrosting in the fridge for dinner tonight.
All I need to do is get through the shift, stop at the store and buy some wraps for the steak and some cat litter.
Have a good weekend, my friends.
Hang in there; better days are coming, though by “better days” I mean sooner or later you get to retire. Of course retirement has its own frustrations, so I suppose better days are NOT coming. Oh well. Hang in there nonetheless.
I think that’s the biggest problem with the whole “it gets better” bullshit that was big a couple of years ago. “Better” is all relative. Right now, I’d love to be anywhere other than the pharmacy parking lot before my shift starts. However, I know from experience that I get a little stir crazy if I’m not working.