I'm Going to Hide Today


I was sitting at my desk yesterday, hard at work playing Bejeweled and listening to Metallica through my shnazzy new earbuds, full of angst and suffering from a serious case of the "Idon'tgiveashits." The ringing phone forced me to kill the tunes. When I answered it, I was greeted by an angry customer who had the balls to imply that I might not be telling the truth (not a wise move) and who then proceeded to crawl up my rear end sideways.
Sing it with me.. "It's a beautiful day in the neighborhood.. a beautiful day for a neighbor..."

When it was over (I'll spare you the gory details,) Bossman sheepishly approached my desk to ask if everything was okay. I know he heard the whole thing, you can't fart around here without at least 8 people knowing right away. I looked at him, smiled and said, "Everything's fine. Someone was just having a bad day and mistakenly assumed he was going to take his frustrations out on me."

Bossman said, "But you kindly shed some light on the situation and helped him to redirect his frustrations?"

"Ummm yes. Thats it," I answered.

I was so glad to see five o'clock get here. I bolted, making a beeline out of Dodge before Bubbles could even get her purse. I made my daily stop at the post office (no home mail delivery in Frog Pond Holler) to check our box. Inside, I found a letter from the bank where I have Jolene (my truck) financed. It was one of those "your insurance coverage is going to expire and we're going to come take your truck" letters. In the 1/4 mile between the post office and the trailer, I'd worked myself into a hell of a tizzy, convincing myself that Ma hadn't made the insurance payment, that I'd have to use the credit card that I'd just paid off to make the payment to keep from losing my vehicle. I wondered why the hell I can't get my car sold (the economy.. duh,) how I was going to pay my cell phone bill with only $4 in left in my checking account and where the hell is my "stimulus check" when my bank account could use some serious stimulation?

By the time I walked in the door, I was a red hot mess, ready to do battle.

All because of a letter. One mailed the day after Ma made the insurance payment.

Thankfully I had forced myself to calm down before asking Ma about the insurance. I hid in the bathroom a good 20 minutes after I got home and read the funny paper until I felt sorta kinda human again.

I faced this morning with a new attitude. The raging hormones of the female curse had subsided (they still refer to it as "the curse of Eve" around here,) Craig Ferguson was back on the air after a week of reruns (and thank GOD for that new set. That Pepto-Bismal barf colored one was a little hard on the eyes,) and the smell of spring is in the air. I also realized this morning that we're off this Friday, a three day weekend always makes things a little brighter.

I arrived at the office knowing things were looking up, that I was going to have a really good day.

Then it happened. The unthinkable.

Lulu, the only person in all of Frog Pond Holler that I can get along with, the only ally I have here at the Asylum... snapped at me. Bit my head off. Snarled up her face and spewed forth an acidic stream of words that nearly brought me to tears.

It's the end of the world as I know it.

If anyone's looking for me, I'll be curled up under my desk in the fetal position, quietly singing "This Little Light of Mine."