Then Again, Vacation Wasn't So Bad

An alternative title for this post could be "My Craw and What Is Stuck In It."

I am in a very bad mood this evening, for a variety of reasons. Normally I would not hoist my bad mood onto my blog for all to see, but I thought, perhaps, a little vulnerability might be endearing and, therefore, excused, just this once.

What is up with the mood, you ask? Well, for one thing, I went back to work yesterday. Although it was not exactly relaxing staying home with the Tornadoes for nine days on vacation, being forced to find ways to entertain them in the never-ending rain that ruled out almost all of our intended plans, it did accomplish one thing. It allowed me to forget, for a short period of time, how work has felt lately, which is - oh, how does one say - excruciating.

It is not always excruciating. In fact, what I do for a living is usually pretty gratifying, as it serves a very real purpose, and I enjoy helping people. I have worked very hard for many years to get to the point I am at and I (normally) take a healthy measure of personal satisfaction from a day's work. Except not so much recently. And especially not so much when, after nine consecutive rainy days off, the clouds completely vanish and the sky goes all cornflower blue for the first two days that I am back on the job. Add to that kick in the face the fact that I spent my first hour of my first day back engaged in an epic struggle with my bursting-at-the-seams inbox, and you have yourself an unpleasant return.

Now I know there are a handful of people out there from work who read this, so let me say right now, this here is just a little tantrum. Just a blip, nothing to get excited about. In fact, let's get back to that craw and see what else is stuck in thar...

Ah yes, there's the fact that I have been waiting for four days for a delivery of firewood that I was told would be delivered - well, four days ago. I should have known this would be problematic, because when it comes to trying to get any major task accomplished at home, what isn't? But I allowed myself to believe that when The Man With the Wood said it would be here on Monday that it would actually be here, and then when I called him on Tuesday and he said "So sorry, it will be there tomorrow morning" that it would actually be here the next morning. And here we are on Thursday night and alas: no firewood. So now, instead of being able to let off a little steam and simultaneously get a little exercise stacking wood, I am going to eat potato chips. Why? Because. Because of the real, actual reason that I am in a very bad mood tonight.

I am hormonal as hell.

Gentleman readers, you may want to step off now.

Returning to work happened to coincide with - insert whatever cutesy terminology you prefer - what I call Day One. Day One of what historically has been three to four days max which has, in the past year, become a mind-boggling six to eight days. In addition, Day One has come to include an absolutely enraging amount of physical agony AND this "hormonal as hell" feeling AND the sense that I have blown up to the size of a parade balloon. I brought this phenomenon up with my doctor a few months ago, fearing something had seriously gone haywire, and he quite nonchalantly responded, "oh, that's just part of getting older." Well, thanks a lot, buddy.

So what to do? Strenuous, sweat-inducing exercise is about the only thing that usually helps. Running is my poison of choice. I never thought I would say this, but I have come to love running. I have come to love it so much that I completely burned out the treadmill that my sister asked me to store in my basement for her (well I couldn't just let it sit there) and had to start running outdoors, which has made me love it even more, which lead to me cashing in a truckload of what I will call "Attagirl points" that I earned in this crazy incentive program at work to get a really kickass new treadmill for FREE, which is right at this moment sitting in a crate in my garage waiting to be set up, which isn't happening until this weekend when I will have some assistance, and seeing it sitting there, waiting, makes me feel sad and not much like running outside.

So. Potato chips.

That's about it. Back to work. Out of "Attagirl points." Getting older. No firewood. Treadmill in a crate.

Consider this craw officially emptied.