I recently reconnected with one of my favorite fellow telemarketing alum buddies via the miracle of Facebook. She has a great life going on, including her duties writing and editing the About.com Astrology pages. I need to ask her what sort of meteor destroyoed Mercury last night because, between 10pm and just about now, life has been thrown cattywampus. I took off of work yesterday to follow up on housestuff, including signing for a registered letter that was inexplicably sent to the Downtown Pittsburgh postoffice, dealing with my cell phone plan at the office of origin, and--wonder of wonders--clothes shopping. With Donny in daycare I got an amazing about of stuff done. I even got to go out to dinner with Shirley.
Then I went home.
Donny has been teething for the past 3 or 4 days and the poor kid is miserable. He's been feverish off and on, spitting up constantly and just unable to sleep. Last night there were hours of shrieking and squirming and general malaise. He did finally fall asleep a little bit after 1am--I think he was just too exhausted to cry any more. This morning he managed to spit up twice, one of which was just when we'd put him in his carseat. He made it to daycare alright but I ended up taking his bag of lunch and bottles to work with me by mistake. Then I spilled a bottle of cranberry juice in my purse. THEN I found out one of the candidates for the job search I'm working on may be spitting the bait.
I wish I was one of those graceful people who are able to keep a clean house and a nice yard and a balanced checkbook. I always feel like I'm scrambling to stay afloat. If I'm going to feel overworked, I'd at least like my life to be polished and tidy--I mean, if I'm overworked, why is nothing getting done?