Some days it just doesn't pay to get up in the morning.
I am the type of person who doesn't like to go into other people's offices to hunt for things. It feels too much like an invasion of privacy. Likewise, when I go to a friend's house, I don't rifle through the bathroom drawers and closets. Even though I've heard it's something everyone does at one time or another, I've always been an odd duck about that sort of thing. I've always been very respectful of other people's THINGS, and I expect the same treatment--even if I rarely get it.
The reason that I don't go through other people's things is so that I'm never accused of being "the one" who stole something. I've been accused of stealing at the office, and let me tell you--it was NOT a pretty site. I agreed to all the claptrap involved, even though I was quite innocent, but the feeling is that you cannot be trusted. Since I myself try hard to be trusting (and that's no mean feat, let me tell you), I prefer to live my life free of the worry that people don't trust me, and so I try to trust. That trust has been broken so many times, that I can't begin to tick them off. It's been a very disturbing life.
I've always lived in the country, where things are pretty much safe at night, and I can sleep--even alone--in the house (as long as I have a dog). When I lived in the city for a short while, I was constantly on edge--suppressing the fears and concerns of the area I lived in, because there were times I thought I heard gunshots...gunshots where people are firing at people. In the country, if you hear a gunshot, it's more likely someone shooting at an animal--pheasant, rabbit, turkey, deer--rather than people. In the city, houses are crowded right up close and personal. If someone shoots and misses their intended target, it's possible they might hit YOU, and that's a fearsome thing. In the country, there's more space (getting scantier by the minute), and if someone misses their "intended target" they are more likely to miss ANY target, including the side of your house.
At the office, things are falling apart, faster than I can even say. The supervisor doesn't listen and he doesn't hear me. As a person, he's a good guy. His supervisor is completely overworked and should have taken the retirement that she was eligible for when it was offered. Both of them know that I'm cracking under the pressure, and can't do a thing about it. In the meanwhile, I'm going crazy just thinking about it, so I'm going to stop for now writing about it. Just know that I am seeing a doctor, and if push comes to shove, this old gal will be off like a prom dress.
Tonight is Woolgatherer's. I have to leave the house early to get some brownies at Walmart to take, then to work to get my head and feet chopped off, then to Woolgatherer's. I'm not exactly looking forward to the prospect, considering recent events, but I promised that I would bring a treat, and I won't go back on that. Somehow it doesn't seems right. Now, I could drop off the treat and head back home after, but that would raise suspicions, plus the fact that I paid money to be in this group. So I think that I'll probably stay.
The only good thing about the world right now is that my husband (with the cold feet--and I MEAN cold, brr, freezing, frosty feet) has been pretty understanding about the whole rest of the world beating up on me. But imagine sleeping with an ice cube?
Well, time to make the donuts.
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