I wish I could say

things have gotten better at work. I wish I wish I wish.
But they haven’t. I was given a project “of my own” to do, and at first, I was excited. That wore off. After a week.
I wish they had fired me. Given me the boot. Kicked my ass into taking a chance and doing something else. I’m worried about where the money is going to come from, while at the same time I couldn’t give a crap about going to work.

The first time today that I actually started to get some work done the machine goes belly up and gives me the blue screen of death.

I can’t even go get drunk at lunch, because I have a sinus infection that is making me feel dizzy when completely sober. If I drink even a quarter of a drink, I’ll feel like I’m going to puke for a few hours afterward.

Something is biting me in my sleep, like a bug or something. The left side of my face is covered in red bumps about ¼” in diameter.

ManThing is miserable because I have been miserable for a week.

I am angry with the Dog. I can’t open any windows in the house (some fuckwit painted them all shut), and the Dog crapped on the floor for the second time. She rolls around in leaves and mud every chance she gets, and she smells awful. Ergo, our house smells awful, because I can’t open any fucking windows.

I am still fat. I say that as if I thought it might just go away on its own if I hated it enough. Didn’t work.

I survived another round of layoffs, which is astounding, when you consider how piss-poor my attitude has been lately. I must be good.