I know it’s probably very frustrating for long-time readers, because I started this new job and suddenly, it’s like having laryngi larenji silence in the fingertips.  Where before I could squeak out a post a day, and on a slow day maybe two, now I get MAYBE two posts A WEEK.  Which makes me CRAZY, I must admit.  It’s like having that sounding board taken away from you.

AT A TIME THAT YOU FUCKING NEED IT THE MOST.

I obey the Law of Dooce, I really do, where in we don’t discuss work or coworkers or anything related to paychecks because some day, an employee will randomly Google you in hopes that there are nekkid pics of you on the net, and instead, they find out that you called them a douchebag who smells funny.  Oh, and you signed your name to it.  Turns out: HR is not a fan.

Believe me.  I did not always obey the Law of Dooce.

BUT Y’ALL, LEMME JUST SAY, if I was one to talk about work, it would involve ALL CAPS and several BOLDED, UNDERLINED sentences, possibly followed by exclamation !! points !! or at least some stern-looking periods.

I hate to say that I hate my job, because I’m just not that kind of person.  But y’all.. seriously.. I may hate to say it, but that doesn’t stop me from thinking it.  A lot.  Pretty much every time I get nauseous while pulling into the parking lot.  Or I get light-headed from a six hour meeting. (Like today.) Or that Sunday night dread suddenly envelopes me and I don’t wanna talk to anyone about anything because I need to reserve all of my reserves for the coming week because you just don’t understand it’s insane here.

Now, having said that.  Here are the GOOD points of my job:

• I get paid.  Well.
• I love my boss.
• I love my team.
• I am part of history.
• I am building a vehicle for my children’s children to explore the universe.
• I get to cut through the military base in our town.
• There are free tampons in the bathroom.
• Did I mention the pay?

Now, if I were to be sarcastic (ME?  NOOOOO.), my list of good points would read something like this:

• Free training on working through challenging coworker dynamics!
• Patience developed as a means to preserve sanity!
• FREE MOLD!
• Fosters self-motivation through minimal leadership!
• Cultivates humility through absent recognition!

Let it never be said that I can’t find the good in any situation.

Thursday night, Bryan saw me tuck something into my purse and asked me what it was.  “I can’t talk about it now,” I said, matter-of-factly.  “This is deserving of an Edgar round table.”

Every Friday night, a group of friends gather at a local Mexican dive to listen to Edgar.  Edgar has no last name.  Just like Madonna, with a lot less boning. (I was referring to the corsets, but I imagine ANYONE does a lot less boning than Madonna.)(Sorry, Edgar.) Edgar is an aging mexican (?.. Spanish?) singer who does covers spanning the ages.  He also does sound effects.  And most importantly, he does not mind a gaggle of two year olds cutting a rug directly in front of his set-up.

So on Friday, I passed this letter around.  As y’all know, we moved recently, so this letter took a long time to get to me, as it was sent to our old address.  It was also addressed to “Sara Brown”.  Which is not quite my name.  Inside was a typed letter, two pictures, and a heartfelt apology about some unknown but horrific tiff many years ago.

This was so incredibly awesome.  It was like reading about Sara Brown of Bizarro world.

Some interesting facts about Sarah Brown:

• She was in the middle of a divorce when the smack-down occurred.
• She was also seeing a much older man.  Not her husband.
• She was living with her mother.
• She was in school, but did not have a job.
• She has a daughter (maybe?) named Victoria.

So this letter goes on and on about how a man came between them, but that man is gone, and the author is now seeing a man .. a dream man!.. who is wonderful.  He is recently divorced with three kids.  They have been dating for five months, but she hasn’t met the kids yet.

.. isn’t that kind of odd?  Five months, no introduction to the kids?

AM I HORRIBLE FOR BEING SNARKY ABOUT SOMEONE’S LIFE THAT I’VE NEVER MET?!

(yes.)

Anyway, so I raise the question to y’all: She includes TONS of contact information in this letter, in which Sarah Brown is supposed to get back with her so they can rekindle their friendship.  She also includes a picture of herself and one of her babeh.  I would’ve thrown the whole thing away, quite honestly, but she threw those Olan Mills in there and now I feel involved.  So do I:

• Contact her and tell her she has the wrong Sarah Brown
• Throw the email away.. it was forwarded anyway, so maybe it DID get lost in the mail
• Contact her and ask her why in the hell she dated a man who spells his name Derik
• Contact her, say Sara Brown passed away, and her last breath was giving forgiveness.  BUT SHE IS DEAD, SO DON’T TRY AND CONTACT HER.
• Also, encourage her to not Google her, as there are 9 million Sarah Browns, several of them much more famous than moi.

So, if someone incorrectly mailed you a heartfelt (typed) letter, complete with shots of herself and her chilrens, what would you do?

I apologize now for any contact anyone may have had with me this week, and will go ahead and preemptively apologize for any contact someone may have with me in the near future.

I am just a grouch as of late.

There is no reason.  Okay, work has been stressing me out this week.  But it’s nothing we haven’t seen before.  And the baby?  He’s perfect.  Happy, so much fun, and a great little bundle of boy.  My marriage?  Awesome.  Couldn’t be better.

THEN WHY IN THE HELL DO I KEEP SNAPPING PEOPLE’S HEADS OFF?

Now, I’ve done what I can.. I know myself well enough to figure that I’m acting this way and the best defense is a good offense, so to speak.  I’m staying to myself.  I’m not really conversing.  I’m trying my best to just get by.

BUT PEOPLE KEEP TALKING TO ME.

I confessed all of this to Bryan last night, and all he had was that maybe it’s a touch of post-partum depression.  This pissed me off. (What hasn’t, as of late?) But to say it’s something as blanketed as that is like saying any woman who is upset MUST be PMSing.

Case-in-point: (more…)