2002-01-14 / 11:48 a.m.

~This One�s Irritating~

Intense irritability. Had to rush this morning, shower, comb hair, throw on clothes, run out door, three minutes late. New temps. Rasta insists on a hug, but I can�t stand him lately, and refusing would be awkward. He got it from Penelope, the hugging thing. Now he does it every morning. Clothes are uncomfortable, shoes are hot, knee highs fall down, glasses slide down my nose and it�s not even greasy, it�s too early for grease.

Three new temps, two are white, young girls, one is loud, smokes cigarettes, I can smell them on her, and I looked the other way when they came in. D was looking for �volunteers� for training, so I looked the other way.

Listerine sits behind me, muttering. Some little friend of hers from the other side of the suite comes to visit, stands behind me, I don�t want her reading over my shoulder.

First thing, I came in and clipped my fingernails, filed them down low. Too long for typing, too long for anything, I can�t stand to feel them, and there is good light to do it here, better here than at home, but I was self-conscious, what would new temps think of me filing my nails?

Listerine breaks into a hum when she hangs up her phone, and if it continues all day how will I stand it?

I called the Power company because the net amount was more than the amount due if I pay early, or vice versa, whatever, it was wrong, but it turned out I read a �6� as a �9�, and I looked at several times. I was amazed when the CSR read it out to me, the total due. I laughed, I felt stupid, but she laughed too, and all was well. An easy call for her. Easy for me.

I�m just off today. �Off�. And there is no reason that comes to mind. No reason at all, except we should have won the Big Game Friday night, we should have won, I should�ve gotten out of this hell hole. And I didn�t.

Rasta bathes himself in cologne now, and I think it�s because of his little �affair� with Laverne. He walked by me and I was overwhelmed.

Scents, sounds, sensations of any kind, a tight belt, sweaty feet, glasses sliding down my nose, people laughing on personal calls, D asking a favor, but starting by saying, �Good morning. How was the weekend? How are the Thrashers doing? Didn�t they play last night?�, and I don�t want to chit chat, cut through the bullshit, get to the point, you want something from me, what is it?

And Quincey, one of last week�s temps, needs something, calls to me, �Excuse me!�, she doesn�t know my name. I have to cross over to the other side of the room to help her, around cubicles, a longish walk, and I�m irritated, I say, �My name is _______�, because it pisses me off she doesn�t know. It pisses me off that she is stupid. Everything pisses me off, and I don�t know why. Why can�t I be easygoing? Why can�t I be stupid and filled with bliss?

Trying to hear someone on the phone, connection is bad, voices are raised in cubes, they swell to a crescendo, my hand covers my other ear, I can�t hear the person on the phone, and I don�t want to hear her, but I have to. And Laverne is talking, saying she doesn�t talk a lot, and I raise my head to look at her, she does nothing BUT talk, ALL day�

Hell, it�s hell, and I�m stuck here.

Hopefully it will get better. Hopefully this feeling will go away, there must be a way to find calm, comfort, contentment, here. I�ve had it before, I know I have, or I couldn�t have stayed here this long.

Nelson called last night. I was lying on the sofa, nowhere near a phone. I heard it ring, it was late, after 10:30, and I knew it was him. I just knew it. Who else would it be? Hermione has a special ring I�ve assigned to her, it wasn�t her. Only he calls me late on Sundays. Late on weeknights too. Looking to get off. He left a message, oh, he hasn�t talked to me in a while, wants to know how I am, it�s been a while, he figures I must be in bed already, or screening, and he has to figure, has to know what I�m doing. He�ll call back later in the week, he says, he�ll call another night, this week. Like I should waiting, sitting by the phone, expecting him. Why should I care?

I can�t have phone sex with him anymore. I won�t. I won�t get him off, it�s not my job. I�ll never meet him, in person, I�ll never know him, he�ll never really care about me, I don�t get off, he doesn�t know how to please me, what is the point? And I truly feel he won�t want to just talk, not knowing that it won�t end in sex, it won�t end with him needing to clean himself off.

I don�t know, I just don�t know anything anymore. I think I�m in one of those moods wherein I�m simply tired of my life. I�m tired of living, this way, it wears me out, it bores me, it irritates the hell out of me.

Cost of the War in Iraq
(JavaScript Error)

Run, Kitty, Run!

Previous - Next

New - 2012 - 2009 - 2008 - 2007 - 2006 - 2005 - 2004 - 2003 - 2002 - 2001 - Profile - Contact - Notes - Rings - Diaryland - Favourite Entries - ReadMe - Surveys - Random Entry

Recent Entries:

It Was 40 Years Ago Today - 9:44 a.m. , Friday, Oct. 12, 2012

Dead Black Cat - 9:07 a.m. , Wednesday, Jan. 25, 2012

As Seen From Outer Space - 1:07 a.m. , Saturday, Dec. 05, 2009

I Survived to Tell the Tale - 7:29 a.m. , Friday, Sept. 18, 2009

Reading My Life - 12:55 p.m. , Saturday, Sept. 12, 2009

Happy Kitty

My Diary Was Reviewed at Ms Lovejoy's - Get Yours Reviewed Too!

Registered I was a nominee