See Spot…See Spot Sweat…See Spot Panic

No, I have not lost it completely. My kid wanted to play house tonight and asked me what my name was. I said I wanted to be Elektra. She declared it too hard to pronounce and remember. I muttered, “Just call me Spot…” Now, I am Spot, for life. Yayyy. See Spot stab things with sporks. That’s one I’d liked to have read in first grade.

Spot is exhausted from the heat, humidity, and the petri dish. I slept little last night because of anxiety due to trepidation of R greeting me with some snark about my mood and it setting me off. Not even Xanax helped. It was hot, I took  a second cold shower, I tossed, I turned, I sat up, I laid down. When I did sleep, it was weird dream after another. By the time the alarm went off, I didn’t want anything to do with reality, I was still too bloody tired. I hit snooze once then forced myself to face the day.

The moment I walked into that shop, he asked, “I hope things are going better for you.” I said, meh…Not wanting to elaborate lest it set him off. He seemed pissy and distant and the silence made me more anxious so I started tossing out info about my last week or so…Another dead kitten. Kid has an ear infection. Another new med. My mom ruined another phone I gave her which explained why I couldn’t reach her. Then she had this enormous tree fall into her yard last night and it nearly smashed in the kitchen and back porch. They had live wires throwing sparks, no power for three hours. I thought he might have the presence of mind to ask, “Is she okay watching Spook for you today?” Nope. The man, intentional or not, is a twit. Kinda like the day m0m called to tell me Spook had hurt her eye and I told him I had to go and he said, “Before you do, go get my beer for me.” Yeah, he’s the great person and I’m the whacked out bitch. Splain it to me Lucy.

Rather than commiserate with what I’d told him of my life..He sneered, “I thought things were getting better for you!” Like it’s my fault shit happens. I was almost glad for my numb apathy, least I didn’t go off on him. You can’t cure asshole, after all. And besides, *most* of us who weren’t born with silver sporks in our mouths *get* that shit happens, stuff goes wrong, and sometimes your good intentions don’t mean life will cut you a break. It is what it is. Spoiled brat that he is, he thinks it’s personal when shit goes awry. Not even I am deluded enough to think it’s some conspiracy against me by the fate. Some of us just have bad luck and sometimes, bad shit just happens.

It’s odd how he, and others, play up my moodiness as some minefield for them to navigate yet I feel the same about them. Difference being, if I am short tempered and snarky, it’s “a bad mood.” Today when he got a third bad board for one repair, he completely went, started screaming and cursing, and THAT is fine because he’s just frustrated. I don’t even know what that is. But the eggshells I walk on make me wonder if this is my karma for making others feel that way, even if it was unintentional and a byproduct of being off kilter.

Make no mistake. Everything bad that you do…comes back on you ten fold. Doesn’t matter if you’re ill or damaged or had good intentions…It’s coming back for you and it will eat.your.soul. (Though there are scum of the earth examples I’ve been waiting karma to bite on the ass for years and years and it hasn’t happened, so apparently, it only applies to good people who fuck up.)

In addition to the eggshells I walked on, time crawled. Like a snail on Seroquel. I felt like I’d been there, anxiety ridden, for hours when it was less than an hour. Every sound was setting me on edge. Even a sigh from his highness made me want to put on Kevlar. BUT he did buy me a pack of smokes. Then sent me to get lunch from this crowded pub place I am not familiar with (least not since the days when I had to drag my first husband’s wasted ass out of there at the bartender’s request.) It was like, here, have a reward. Here, pay for it with an anxiety attack. I did it, but I’d rather have faced a guillotine.

In the two weeks since I’d been at the shop…somehow the jackasses got the computer infested with viruses and malware. R claimed he removed it all. I ran ADW and Avast and it removed 147 infected files. WTF. I’m barely conscious half the time and I can still keep my computers free from that shit. But I also don’t frequent the free porn sites like *some* people do, which is pretty much instant VD for computers. I was tasked with “fixing it” even though the mess wasn’t mine. Thanks a lot, you assholes. Watch porn on a computer NOT used for business, ewwwwww.

I was so relieved when it was time to go. Four hours that felt like two days, for a pack of smokes, lunch, and a bag of cat food. THEN he had the audacity to ask me to come back after I fetched my kid because he *lost* an original main that he needed pictures of to send to a seller so he could get a proper replacement. GRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR. I had employers who paid me that weren’t that demanding and selfish. But…I ran home to check mail and make sure  the in and outdoor cats had food and cold water. Then I returned some library books, fetched my kid, and returned to the shop. He’d found the lost board and insisted I “work my magic” as far as attaching the pictures and emailing them for his replacement. Hey, as he points out so often, I’m  the one with little education, no job, and mental issues, so I’m not fit to do anything more than be critiqued…I did it, just to get the fuck out of there. Seriously, how inept are you if you own an iphone yet can’t attach some pix to an email and click send? Education and intelligence are soooo very different things.

Came home. It was 94 today. Oddly, lower humidity so uncomfortable but not as bad as yesterday. Until my kid started in on me. Then  the heat and noise made me cranky and I felt like my brain would implode. I can’t get it right with that child. I play with her two hours, want to take a ten minute break, she screams bloody murder and says I am mean and ignoring her. What do you do with someone who can’t get enough attention even as you rip out your still pulsating internal organs to make them happy? It’s exhausting.

I think I am going to close this now. I’m so warm, so tired, so pushed to the brink by the dish and its dwellers…I need to zone out, cryptify, and reboot.

I shall leave you with this…


FYI- That whole thing is a LIE. Sporks could cure cancer, world hunger, and create a super glue that actually glues what you want it to rather than your skin. It just needs an equal opportunity from the Local Utensil Laborer Union 905.

FYI 2- sporks don’t need to decide if they are forks or spoons, their religion allows them to be polyutensil-ous.



5 Responses to “See Spot…See Spot Sweat…See Spot Panic”

  1. Gnite,hopefully good dreams & feel relaxed! 🙂 Get in touch with ya tomorrow! Hugs to you & Spawn!

  2. To be honest, I’m not sure what to say to all this. I feel like I should have something comforting to say. Maybe I just haven’t had enough coffee this morning. At any rate, I hope things get better for you. And I hope that guy stops being such a jerk. Not likely, but better to hope than not.

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