paradise

It may be 830 in the morning, and I may not have had any coffee yet, but I am in doctor's office paradise. 

The receptionist wasn't headache causing cheery. She didn't hand me paperwork I wouldn't possibly know how to fill out for myself, let alone another person. I got the easy ones today. 

The coffee is fantastic. I did something I haven't done since college (which usually means something ridiculously awful) and put hot coca powder in my coffee instead of creamer. Oh, I forgot how good this tasted. 

I don't even care how the rest of the day goes. I am sitting in a zen garden waiting room, watching nick jr, and drinking a great cup of coffee. 

This is doctor's office paradise and this is my reward. At least for the next few minutes...

nonsense.

I had such high hopes for the day. I was going to get so much paperwork done! One appointment. One little physical and the day would be mine. 

How silly of me to be optimistic. 

I've learned the pattern and yet, each time I have a day like today, it surprises me.  

How in the hell is it already 315 in the afternoon? And what do I have to show for it?

I not only should have known based on the pattern, but also by the fact that the doctor's office I visited was an office I've visited often. An office with which I was familiar. An office with fantastic coffee. An office that had fantastic coffee.

As soon as I walked in the door, my eyes went straight to the corner table. The table where the coffee sat. It was empty. I stood, with my travel mug, and my heart, empty. 

First sign of a bad day! I'm not usually dramatic over coffee...except I am.  Especially when I then have to sit in a 32 degree exam room for an hour and a half, in a short dress, with no coffee.  And there went my day. I have to take her back to work now, then to my office, then scan the 27 documents the state is asking for, then print off 27 different documents for the houses, take said documents to the house, and it's five pm. 

Nothing is finished. 

Nothing ever gets finished. 

Oh, drama drama, stress stress. 

Time for a glass of wine. 

Rinse, and repeat tomorrow. 

Attention Deficit Dis..

My brain travels at a speed unmeasurable by man. I think of so many brilliant things...so many...but then, oh! next thought. Previous brilliant idea gone. Then it sits, just beyond my reach, like a vivid dream slips away moments after waking. 

It makes me sad, almost. All the beautiful stories, thoughts, idea, that could have been. Should have been. 

I could be great, if only I could keep up with my thoughts. Even now, I can't keep up. They're always racing. Faster, faster, faster.  It's as if they don't want to be remembered. They want to stay secret. Locked away. 

We know you're genius, but the rest of the world can't know. 

It's not fair. It drives me crazy. I can think three, four steps ahead...but then, where'd step one go? I can't slow down. Stop and smell the roses? Please. I can barely stop for my next cup of coffee.  Oh, that could be the problem. 

Coffee. The root of all insanity. 

The problem is, when I go without it, my brain doesn't move. It stalls. No thoughts, no brilliance, just throbbing nothing. 

There is no happy medium. There is no well-controlled, non-socially awkward (side effect of skipping step one often), brilliant girl. There is me. A very, very weird and awkward, wibbly-wobbly girl with a notebook. 

I don't think I'd have it any other way. 

I think a confident, put-together, version of myself would scare the living daylights out of me. After all, we're all just stories in the end. Might as well make it an interesting one, eh? And what is more interesting than a girl who messes everything up because she can't control her mind?

scrambling

First day back after vacation and I've already decided I need a clone. That technology needs to be perfected right now. I can multitask the shit out of anything, but I think I've reached maximum capacity. 

My desk, as my lovely coworker put so delicately on a sticky note in the middle of my monitor, is a hot mess. 

I am a hot mess. 

As soon as I get on a roll and my paperwork is getting done (fully this time), my phone rings and it's time to switch gears. Crisis mode flips on and I end up in a doctor's office with a shrieking baby and his obnoxious older sisters fighting over a half eaten apple and a Spider-Man coloring book. That's if I'm lucky. Sometimes I end up sitting in one of the houses until 1030 pm; playing therapist. If I had a clone, I could be at the pharmacy and in a meeting in opposite sides of town. Just think of the efficency. 

Until this happens, I'll just have to make due with 12 hour days in a dress and heels, running all over the city, and answering emails at stop lights (not that I actually do that...that would be bad...). 

It would be nice if everything would run smoothly in the meantime. Especially since I'm ridiculously behind after taking one day off. I can dream, but I doubt it'll work out that way. One day off and five doctors had to be called, I lost a staff for two months, and someone has a new WebMD diagnosis and needs to be at the doctor ASAP before her lung collapses. 

So much to do...can I go back to the lake where I had no responsibilities? I had the doctors office with the Keurig to look forward to today, but the only stupid circle insert thingys left are sleepytime tea and decaf breakfast blend. Time to try and trick my mind into thinking decaf has caffeine and make a list of everything that needs to be done today. 

I wonder if I could convince my boss to let me hire a "clone." 

vacation!

It took some time, but I finally remembered my last vacation. Over three years ago, my boyfriend and I went to Kansas City for the weekend. I haven't even taken more than a day off for my birthday (not counting the two sick days I broke down and took and four or five times I came in late or left early when sick because I refused to take a full day) in the past year. Tomorrow, I am taking the day off and going out of town for the weekend. 

It's not much, and I'm incredibly excited and I definitely need it, but I'm worried. I keep thinking of things that need to be done. No one has an appointment. No one has a meeting (technically I do, but I wasn't even aware of it until today and was told it wasn't important). Everyone has petty cash. Everyone has meds. Staff know who's on call. Staff know how to handle a behavior. 

I think it's guilt. My caseload isn't the easiest. I hate to put the responsibility of the hypochondriac and the schizophrenic on one of my coworkers. What if something happens and they're stuck dropping everything to take care of it. That's my typical day, but I don't wish it on anyone else. So it's guilt. Guilt or I'm a workaholic. Yesterday I was in the office until after 8 and I was back this morning right at 8 am. I'm single. I don't have kids. All I do at home is workout, watch syfy shows on Netflix, and cuddle with my cat (and work on my addiction feeding, server connecting, company laptop). Those people, even the girl who follows me into the bathroom so she can show me her latest injury, are my life. 

Is that pathetic? It seems a little pathetic on paper.  It's not so pathetic when you take the human element into account:

I just need to unplug, relax, and have a drink or six. I need a few days of not waiting around for my computer to decide to print a PDF file. 

Everything will be here when I get back and, I'm going to the office with the Keurig on Monday. 

Breathe...forget about what could be in that inter-office envelope I left unopened...enjoy my vacation. 

Got it.