Perhaps it is the pms, but I have felt tears pressing against the back of my face for 2 days now. I am emotionally exhausted, yet they won't come out. Work has left me feeling too high strung. Any sense of professionalism I had has flown out the window. I find myself swearing like a sailor, and I don't care who sees me. Whenever a sentence calls for a pause, I toss in the word -Fuck- to fill the space. Today, in a ball of angry fits, I actually growled at my boss. Chattered my teeth like an agitated circus monkey. She (of course) told me I'm bat-shit.
In rising to meet our increased holiday volumes, being shat upon by all my surrounding work groups, trying to salvage a custom card program that is literally exploding under pressure, and still trying to make this a lovely Christmas holiday for my most loveded ones, I feel I am about to crash. But tomorrow is Friday. This weekend is only the eye of a holiday storm, but if I can just forget my employer exists for 2 days; 2 measly days...I might be able to collect myself a bit and calm down.
Matt made rad plans for a date on Sunday. He's taking me out for dinner and Christmas lights, at the same time. We're going to grab a pizza from Domino's to share while we drive. I'm excited, it should be super fun. Even the dogs can come. So at least there's that to look forward to.
I'm also hoping to make some waffles on Saturday. Waffles and Saturday mornings are such a perfect combo they should hold hands and run away together. While they're at it, they should make some babies. Because Waffle-Saturday babies equal longer weekends and all day brunches. And that is a delightful thought indeed.