Oh my GOODness. Thank God for a little caffeine. I�m so happy I didn�t post the entry I had written before going to get some serious nourishment. I was so cranky pre-energy that I snapped at a few coworkers before storming out of the office, still half-asleep. I woke up late this morning, freaked out, called in and left a message on our voicemail here, something like, �I just woke up! I�m on my way, I�ll do my best! AAAHHH!� I was still here way before anyone else. Shouldn�t have called, no one would ever have known that there was drama to my morning. Ah well, such is life, eh?

At least my hair is being cooperative, though it�s killing me not to be wearing makeup for the second day in a row (note: lipstick does not count as makeup. That is a necessity, and one is naked without some kind of gloss, tint, moisturizer, SOMETHING on the lips. In other words, I�m wearing lipstick, but still, my face feels nude, for that is all I have on!).

So my boss didn�t even make it in today, and here I was, freaking the fuck out about the possibility of being 2 minutes late, when in fact, I was 10 minutes early. Go figure. HER manager is coming in, though, I�m ecstatic. Really. Can�t wait for the Area Manager to be here, buzzing around like a little bee (which is kind of funny, because she�s maybe 5 feet tall with short blond hair, tends to wear black, so she does remind me of a bee), in and around the office, �what�s this? What�s that? What are you all doing to make money?!!!� Yeah. I�m overflowing with anticipation. Speaking of bees, when we were moving in this weekend (yup, I worked on Saturday after 2 � hours of sleep, I�m such a rock star), I went outside in front of the office for a breather. I stood watching the parking lot with my hands behind my back, one hand holding the other wrist, palm upward.

And then, something landed in the palm of my hand, still behind my back. What could this be? Exactly. DEAD BEE. IN MY HAND. Um, AHH! As soon as I saw it, my hand went into some kind of spasm, the dead bee falling to the ground as I continued to go into Get-The-Bug-Off-Me convulsions. Thank God no one saw me. But enough about bugs.

I�ve been irritable recently, not so sure as to why. But my fuse is short, and my tolerance for people in general is nonexistent. Not with people I know, though, more with strangers. Which is odd, because I love strangers, I love to meet people and interact on that chicken-talk level, practicing my social skills with new and different people. Ooh, but recently? During the move. Neighboring offices, all these people coming over, Hi neighbor! Welcome, can we look around? Ooh, nice place, love what you�ve done with it! And I stare at them blankly and repeat �Go to Hell, go to Hell,� over and over in my head. �Out of my face, out of my face, go away, you� you PERSON!� What�s my deal? Full moon? Wasn�t that days ago? I need another excuse here, I�m running out. I think it all comes down to needing to take a break, take a breather, relax, Barb.

Spend a week indoors, reading and relaxing. Not interacting, because obviously, I�ve hit some kind of ceiling in the social room for now. If I am holed up in my apartment, I don�t run the risk of snapping at people I would not normally snap at. Though, I must admit, there is some kind of sick, strangely pleasurable satisfaction that comes with having no tolerance. At least when I�m low on energy. It�s so much easier to say a few syllables in a very curt manner and go about my day than it is to humor a situation with pleasantries, how-do-you-do�s, and the like. Most of the time, I actually care what the answers are to questions like How do you do? But right now, all I care about is getting a few major things accomplished here at the office and running home to hide in my apartment. Hey, sometimes the electric car needs to recharge, okay? My battery�s been running low for awhile now. I�m surprised it hasn�t just up and died on me. Now, where�s that outlet?

-Barbarella

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