death.

Today is the day that I die. I knew it was coming...I've felt it for some time now. My head is spinning, my eyes are blurred, my breath is trying, and my heart is screaming. 

Allergy season is upon us. 

Every year, it builds up. Every year, each morning gets worse. Each morning, the number of sneezes increases. As that number increases, so does the time my eyes spend in waterfall mode. All of my energy is depleted to such an extent, even the smell of my coffee automatically brewing as trouble coaxing me from the embrace of my satin comforter. Slowly, even doubling up on Claritin has no power of the symptoms. 

I must face the day (the meetings, the pharmacy trips, and the doctor visits) without the comfort of makeup. The constant nose blowing and streaming tears get rid of that in 20 minutes, anyway.  It's not giving up, it's acceptance. Anyway, I'd rather not have any makeup on than dreadful mascara tears. 

I've mastered the art of dying over the years. I've grown accustomed to it. While  people around me show concern for my gradual decreased spirit, I know better. I know I will die. 

I will die, and then, as if the past few weeks were nothing but a dream, I will be reborn. I will awake to various cartoon voices scolding me and coffee dripping. I will be sneeze free and my vision will only be hindered by close objects and alcohol. My mind will be sturdy, my breath will be unhindered, and my heart beat clear and equal. 

I have known suffering equal to passing through Shelob's lair and the desert between Tashbaan and Archenland in the year 1984, but I know, as they knew, a better day is on the horizon. 

So today, I die, but tomorrow, tomorrow will be as glorious as spring at Walden Pond. 

solitaire

I have a solitaire app on my phone that has the capability to turn 7:30 pm into 10:30 pm in the blink of an eye. I don't even want to look at the stats to see how many games I've actually played.  I'm single and live alone, so solitaire is a more than perfect way to pass the time. 

The undo button is my favorite feature. I go so fast, I often click past a card I could have used. I don't even see the opportunity staring me in the face. I even end up pulling a new card down when I could have uncovered one on the bottom (notice my complete lack of knowledge of card terminology). Taking that card from the bottom could have revealed an ace! or something equally as beneficial. Still, I go too fast and the cards blur as I skip over them. 

Life needs an undo button. A wait, I went too fast, let's go back and actually analyze the situation before I make my move button. 

I don't know how many times I've gone somewhere this week (or my whole life to date...stats are high either way) only to have left what I needed sitting on my desk. I don't know how many times I've looked back once the situation has calmed down and I think, "it would have all been much easier if I had done that instead."  My favorite is, "if I had stopped talking at that sentence, I wouldn't be in this mess." 

Undo, undo, undo...

I am addicted to the stupid game. I try to keep as many cards in the pile as I can so I can hit auto complete and the all swish into order. I do, however, have a nasty habit of starting a new game before I've made sure I'm out of moves. Ehh, start over, would be another nice life feature. 

Clean slate, new deck. 

My worst habit is quitting before I even try. Getting dealt every card in the same color just isn't worth the time. Chances are, it'll be a waste. Why bother if it's fairly clear it won't work out? It's daunting. Who wants to deal with daunting, card game or otherwise?  New game. It's so simple to move on and maybe have an opportunity to win. 

Most importantly, in solitaire, there's no other player to screw it all up. I'm tired of people screwing everything up and messing up all the hard work I put into what I do.  

Life needs to be more like solitaire.  

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.