Thank you and welcome to the second ever edition of Fuk-You-Fridays! I know I missed a week, but isn’t that what life is all about?
This week actually surprised me with it’s inability to stomp me down. Despite all that was thrown at me, I managed, SOMEHOW to come out on top, and by that I mean without lapsing back into my “I hate life and all that it embodies” mentality.
Monday was spent as most mondays are – hating the fact that the all-to-short weekend was over and I was once again, subjected to my cubicle worklife. There is just something about being surrounded by 3 and a half walls which will slowly suck the sanity right out of a person. I’ve reverted back to adolescents and have started throwing paperclips again to anyone whose voice seems within hitting distance. The big ones fly further, for anyone who’s interested. Tuesday was spent biting my nails, waiting for the pending weather to hit. Thanks to my blatent mistrust of meteorologists, I never watch the weather and it was only due to my mother having called me in the morning that I had any clue whatsoever that there was anything looming on the horizon. Thankfully, the weather men were, once again (Surprise, surprise!) WRONG and the shit didn’t hit the fan until that evening. Enter Wednesday: My basement flooded again. Apparently, overnight, there was a little snow, a little ice and then a LOT of freezing rain/sleet/rain and the combination of the 3 was enough to anger my house’s foundation and it gave up blocking the rain just like the offensive line did to Tom Brady in the Super Bowl. I was late to work, mostly due to the fact that, as previously discussed, Pennslyvania does NOTHING to their roads in any sort of a timely fashion. Interestingly enough, I heard on the radio that in York County, which is where I live, there are 12,000 ROADS and only 74 SALT TRUCKS. I bided my time until one of those trucks finally hit my road by digging a swail in my backyard in the ice topped snow attempting to divert as much water as possible AWAY from my home, and by rigging up the most ghetto looking thing underneath the one downspout that is overflowing due to it being filled with a buncha shit. AND I can’t get to it. By the time I got to work, it was 11, lunch came quickly after that and before I knew it, I was fighting traffic on my way home.
Thursday, as well all know, was Valentine’s Day. Please see my previous post so that I don’t have to totally reiterate myself.
Friday was the slowest day in existence and I seriously think that there were about 30 hours to it. And 25 of those were spent at my job. I’m not really certain as to WHY I’m suddently feeling like life itself is closing in on me whenever I walk into that office, but something is definitely going to have to change soon, or else, someone will find me drowning myself in the coffee pot one morning. Independent wealth would be a ridiculously awesome thing.
So, all in all here, my week wasn’t all that bad, and Friday wasn’t really trying to fuck me over, but this week also didn’t do much to help me out, either. All the while these things were happening, I’m having to continue to deal with my emotionally harrowing situation (which I choose not to discuss in detail in respect to the parties involved) which seems to be reverting back to what it was 6 months ago, and that’s enough to drive anyone insane, shitty week in combination or not.
Maybe next week I’ll live in bed, like John and Yoko. They got shit accomplished, why couldn’t I?