Saturday, April 18, 2015

Music, Ice Cream and Other Drugs

My eye has been twitching for a week. A WEEK.

I tried catching up on sleep to see if that would help. Nope. Didn't help a wink. Get it? Because my EYE. WON'T. STOP. TWITCHING. 

Even better is that my boss notices it. She laughs at my pain. I look like I'm drugs. Or going through withdrawal. I don't even drink coffee, sheesh. So, I'll thank my buddy stress for this. We have a love hate relationship, which is leaning towards the latter side of that spectrum. Jerk.

Reasonably I should lower my stress level, but at the moment it's a bit of an unreasonable request. There are so many balls up in the air right now. I've just been going, going, going for two weeks straight. I'll be going right through this weekend into next week with no break either.

I need a mental health day. Maybe my eye will stop freaking twitching.

I'm really grateful that I have some levity in my life though. Like Ryan coming home the other day to me in the bathroom holding a little pink box thinking I had some big news. He was incredibly relieved to find out it was a box of Nair.

And then we have conversations like this...

So what's going on?

HEADCOUNT HELL. But let's not talk about the ridiculous last minute requests upper management makes while giving no direction whatsoever.

I may have big news coming. Let's preface that with it's not baby news. It's a pretty big deal but unfortunately has to go through a lot of different channels before anything happens. I've been in limbo for the past three weeks and I haven't been able to talk with anyone, besides Ryan, about it. It's killing me. (Hello, eye twitch) Hopefully, I find out next week.

Have I mentioned HEADCOUNT HELL. Yes? Well, it's coming from all different sides and it's all based on the same set of data, parsed in completely different ways. Thankfully we're having a meeting to prep the data for the next big meeting. Ahh, bureaucracy.

To put the cherry on the stress fractured rib, I have to get a bone scan. That involves putting radioactive shit into my body and taking a few pictures. After that, they send me away for the uranium err "material" to settle in my bones for a few hours, they stick me in a tube for an hour. If I make it through that without having a panic attack it'll be a miracle.

What helps? Besides an incredibly charming and funny husband? Music. Like the new album from James Bay. I may be overplaying it a bit. But really? It's pretty fantastic. I love, love, love "Hold Back the River." It also doesn't hurt when häagen-dazs is on sale and there's a  $1.50 off three coupon to boot. Hello dulce de leche!

Here's hoping some fresh air helps this weekend too.

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