I've noticed a pathological condition resulting from too much closeness of toxin-antitoxin pairs at the job. A T-personality's ratings are given a boost while the A-personality's descent into purgatory is a guarantee. Praying for an antimatter intervention just isn't a workable solution if you're hoping for timely results...you know...results that bless your life with positivity while you're still in the breathing stage.
Most of us must suffer the slings and arrows of a
Escaping the job today had an enormous obstacle to overcome. A hurdle that grew thirty feet tall in two seconds and caused my world to come to a screeching stop as I hurriedly scanned all my options while evacuating my vehicle at the speed of light at the park exit stop sign. A half inch orange fat ant-like creature navigating my arm, refused to be crushed in my panic at detection time and fell off said arm somewhere below.
Looking back through the car door, I caught a glimpse of the little orange bugger disappearing over the edge of my seat into the world under my seat. My heart sank to the bottom of bottom, and a dark cloud instantly positioned itself like a crash helmet of doom over my head as I moved that seat a hundred times back and forth, flipped the back up and down, swiped a magazine over and over again underneath jabbing every which-a-way with an answered prayer of I love that little orange bugger better than you.
I knew I had to position my unwilling butt onto that seat, and either drive the 40 miles home risking the possibility of a nasty bite, or the 100 feet back to the office and insecticide that little orange bugger to smithereens. After a very short drive back to the office that seemed like way too long and much too time consuming, I grabbed what was available...flea and tick spray...dousing the living daylights out of my baby on wheels. Not wanting to go the way of my little orange tyke that hopefully expired curled up in a crevice of foam under my seat cushion fabric, I made my way home with all the windows rolled down and the air conditioner blasting in my face...the roar of wind surrounding my head was alarmingly deafening.
Has anyone noticed that no one on the freeway is friendly anymore except you? At first I thought it was just demented truckers getting their daily perk-me-uppers by seeing how many cars they could play chicken with, but the hapless drivers of those little put-puts have joined ranks with the truckers at pretending the merge lane full of cars is just a figment of every one's imaginations.
Reluctant at coming to a dead stop on the freeway entrance, it takes extraordinary skill to maneuver my little red streak into a whisper of space between giants and midgets on that freeway. I've become thick skinned. Honk at me all you want...give me the dirty evil eye...intimidate me with your one foot space between your bumper and mine...I'm going nowhere but home tonight. Oh, how I hate taking the freeway that every other driver thinks they own for themselves. Nothing free about any of it these days.
On my two lane country road, no sign of the little orange tyke, although I swear I've felt him crawling all over my legs a hundred times in the last twenty miles; my mind's filling up again with that dread and fear of will the money I'm putting into my savings account still be there this time next year. As long as my government can do what they say we cannot do without dire consequences; you know...borrow money that never gets paid back, I think some call it stealing...I'll be okay.
Will they be able to borrow and keep raising the debt ceiling until I am no longer of this earth? I need to know!!! Husband says to not worry. Not worrying is like me coughing up a furball...it's not going to happen any time soon. My pessimism has a strangle hold on my optimism. I've had to shift my endorphin production into overdrive to stave off that headache brewing in the nether regions of my noggin. What ever happened to the simple life? Life just keeps compounding in complications the older I become.
And last, but no way least...my blogging experience is pushing my patience to the outer edge of endurance. In the beginning all seemed as it should be, and I was contentedly happy. Then Preview took an extended vacation escaping my world, leaving me in a bind of having to publish, then tweaking it all after-the-fact.
After six months, it's re-joined my little family, and polishing my posts would be so sublime if it didn't change the spacing every time I close out before publishing. While Mr. Preview was on vacation, Ms. Scroll Vertical threw a tizzy fit, and refused to work any speed but excruciatingly SLOW. She does this mostly on my blog, she taunts me so, but a few other blogs she has taken a dislike also.
Miss Comment says she's working too hard, come on...how she could be so tired is a mystical mystery. Sometimes she works, sometimes not...sometimes she likes you, sometimes not. She's a capricious obstinate little one with a bit of a temper. It's a journey into the abyss of black holeness, as I mickey mouse my way around to finalizing a post. I do not see a future of bliss in this...