Monday: Work a job normally done by three people.
Monday night: file not found
Tuesday night: G's and my blood test results are in. He has elevated cholesterol. I am a carrier for Cystic Fibrosis.
Later Tuesday night: attempt to order wedding invitations: unsuccessful. Email sent to wedding planner to confirm LAST MINUTE FUCKING DETAIL. Attempt to order Ketubah unsuccessful. Vendor only does business by phone during regular working hours.
Wednesday: Still the only support staff in the department.
Wednesday night: Cook a delightfully fragrant vegetable curry for dinner, served with almond couscous. Freshly baked Apple crisp for dessert. G and I indulge in a much-needed bitchfest while sweating from the heat of too much cayenne pepper, which seems perfectly appropriate.
Later Wednesday night: Gym. Increased all my weights by 5 to 10 pounds.
Even Later Wednesday night: Bank. Deposit checks from my spa job. I will wait to spend them for awhile in case they bounce LIKE TWO PREVIOUS ONES HAVE.
Still later Wednesday night: Call Mom and inform her that she's had three months to tell me who to invite to this fucking wedding, and I need her to DO IT NOW. Another much-needed bitchfest ensues. Mom sighs. "I love you, and wish I could be with you." I sigh too. "Something else for us to survive," I mutter.
Thursday morning: Traffic like slogging through elephant shit.
Thursday: THANK G-D THE JOB IS AT LEAST CONSISTENT.
Thursday evening: Client at 5:45
Later Thursday evening: Order invitations. Have sex.
Friday: Job. Blessed, mundane, predictable, quiet job.
Friday night: Nervous Breakdown complete with screaming, wailing and crying.
If I remember correctly, my scheduled nervous breakdown had to be postponed. Which is fine, because I had it January seventh, at about 7:30pm.