Today was one of those days. I woke up with a knot in my stomach and wished the day was over before it began. I had a big project at work with a roaring deadline that was going to be tedious and difficult with undetermined parameters of misery to inflict on me.
I wished the whole drive to work that I had pushed myself out the door an hour earlier, if only for the fact that I could be an hour closer to the end of this awful project. The last several days have been a string of headaches, issues and decisions between school and work. You know, one of those weeks.
I had three bags of things to carry in to my office, so I parked in fifteen-minute parking, carried in my load and then immediately got absorbed in the big project and promptly forgot my car. Only to remember two hours and one parking ticket later. For which I used up my entire storehouse of faux swear words: Dang it! Oh, my heck! I can't freakin' believe this! Shoot!
Yes, one of those days.
What do you do but plunge in and face it, right? Or at least that is what I kept telling myself. My modus operandi in the past has been to curl up in the fetal position and scream "I won't do it! I won't do it! I won't do this day! I don't want this headache!" which often leads only to me having to deal with the headache the next day or the next or the next. Eventually it bites. And the bite only gets bigger. And bigger. AND BIGGER.
I've had enough of those bites, thank you very much.
So, now I bite back. In smallish ways like with lots of exclamation-point-filled emails to coworkers and even more moaning and groaning in private in my office. I'm not quite past the temper tantrum stage even if I don't lay myself out on the ground and wail away with my fists pounding the floor.
Work, I'm just beginning to realize, is often untidy, undefined and unending. Work takes work. I've never been much of a "put your shoulder to the wheel" kind of gal. I've been more of the "let me ride in the wagon" type. I've been thoroughly convinced since I was a child that if reincarnation exists then I was a pharoah's daughter in a previous life because I'm all about lounging around all day in a pretty room with someone fanning me nonstop and someone else feeding me grapes.
It's an attitude I've only recently realized may not serve me well. At least when it comes to days like this one. This kind of day doesn't respond well to calls for bigger fans and more grapes. This day doesn't like it at all. It barks back "Grow up. Get your own fan! Get your own grapevine!" to which I have no response because I don't know how to grow a potted plant let alone my own grapevine. See, more work.
This kind of day teaches me though that work doesn't just go away because I want it to depart. It plants itself firmly in my gut and digs itself deeply into my psyche and refuses to leave until I get down and dirty and make decisions, define parameters, and delegate when necessary. And often I have to do so with an imperfect set of data in front of me. In other words, I'm going to make bad decisions simply because all the facts are not in front of me. I'm going to screw up. I'm going to regret some of my choices. But thems is just the breaks, folks. Thems is the breaks.
Could someone please tattoo that on my forehead, so I'll remember? Mostly, I try to forget it. Like right now, when I have this awful itch to call for grapes and a fan. And someone else to do all the heavy lifting in my life.