This is odd for me, updating at night, from home. So different from my neurotically imposed ritual of updating in the morning, from the office, before I dive into work. Hmm. I almost did it this morning. I almost climbed the 4 feet from the bed to my computer, over a plastic bag of snot rags and a toppled water bottle. Almost. But the pillow caught my hair somehow, and back down I went; as fast and hard as the idea to get up had struck me was the power of the pillow to whip me right back.

And I slept. And I slept. And I tried to read but I had a headache, despite the thousands (alright, bit if an exaggeration) of Tylenol pills I had popped. I'm better now. It's evening. I've had a relaxing day. I'm not going into work tomorrow. It's interesting, how liberating that is, to decide ahead of time not to go into work. To know as I fall asleep tonight that it's not just so that I can wake up to jump into the corporate uniform and drive to a full day at the office. No, not tonight. Tonight, I fall asleep knowing I will wake up to call the doctor (a formality at this point), describe my symptoms (I'm oh so familiar with this), and get my prescriptions over the phone.

Bronchial asthma. Why the wheezing? Why the coughing? Quit the smoking, now the sneezing? I've had this before, it's cyclical. Or has been. Hopefully, without the smoking it won't come back another time. I need an inhaler (again) and amoxicillin (I know it's spelled wrong, and I don't care). That amoxi-baby will tell my lungs to shut up, and the inhaler will tell my bronchial tubes to open wide. And all will be well again. I think I'll ask them to throw in some Claritin. My extreme allergies are only exacerbating my symptoms at this point.

Alright, alright, enough about your fucking illness drama. What else is up? Office is falling apart, but my boss is being awesome about it, holding on tight to me, and I'm holding right back. Soon as I do get back in there, well and rested, the doctoring effect of my optimism will heal all. I've always been the morale of the office, wherever I've worked. Call it a talent. I just don't take the bad stuff seriously enough to let anyone get down about it. Even that one time I was fired. First time, only time so far. Explicit emails, they said, of a sexual and drug-related content. Hmm. My bad.

But, as the 2nd top-biller in the office, there was a lot more going on than my dirty emails. Politics. Boss caught wind of the fact that I mocked her (long story), if I left when I left, office would be up the almost $10,000 that would have been for me had they kept me on. But nope, by letting me go, it all went in their pockets, shared commission that has no one's name on it. Nice, huh. I thought some horrible things after that. I thought some good things, too. Like, this obviously isn't going to kill me, what a great excuse to move back to San Diego and be with my family and friends! Then I would think, How can I ruin this miserable woman's life? How can I express to her what a loser I think she is, an old dried up bitch that no one likes (every person I encountered that has ever met this woman hates her. Her "closest friends" have talked shit about her to me), how could I let her know that I'm better off without her? That I know she has my money and she can shove it up her tight old ass?

Well, those aren't happy thoughts, Barb, not at all. If I really think all those things about her, let it be. Why do I have to make SURE that she's miserable? It took me a long time not to care. And I must admit, if I ever really think about my year and a half there, in that office, any one day of it, I'm touched with a mixture of emotion. Mostly anger and indignation. But we can't live in that, what a fucking waste of energy. So, suffice it to say, I hate her, but I'm over it. I never called with an update of my wonderful life despite the blows she dealt me. Who needs to? Let her wonder, if she cares to. If not, then so be it.

Wow, didn't know I had THAT in me. Good thing I got it out, eh? My headache is gone, and I am ecstatic about it. Anyway, point was, I know that things will work out in the office. My boss is a very understanding woman, this is her first time managing, and she actually takes a lot of pointers from me (someone who's had more managing experience than she). All will be well, as I said earlier. But really, think about that sentence and apply it to every aspect of your life, and realize it as true. All WILL BE WELL. Perhaps not your definition of well, but try this one out for size: All will be as it is supposed to be. Better? I prefer the first, but suit yourself.

I think I'll take advantage of this no-headache thing and get back to my book. I'm liking this spontaneous updating. Who knows when I'll do it next!

-Barbarella

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