The Pro

So I was a wee bit hungover at work yesterday. I had a good reason though, you see. Tuesday morning, I slammed my finger in the drawer and then proceeded to have a brisk nosebleed. Later that afternoon, I was chewed out for things that I didn't do nor do I have any control over to fix. But worst of all was getting angry with the person whose cubicle I go hide in when life is boring or scary. It was stupid, but sometimes people say and do things that make people the worst kind of angry of all...girl angry. Being girl angry is the worst because it's this irrational, uncontrollable, very sad tantrum like fit. You'll want to control yourself but it just all spills out. I think of it as an acute spoke in the menstral cycle. (For reference, when I'm girl angry, I'll shoot dirty looks, get quiet, and contemplate/call you bad names under my breath.) Fortunately, like the burn of wasabi, it's transient. Hot as hell but transient.

So then I cleared off my desk of distractions (goodbye ringtoss!) and slammed it all away in my metal desk drawer, finger and all. Then I proceeded to yell "OWWW!" at a volume I hypothesize to have been heard at least 3 cubicles away. Immediately my eyes began to tear up, partly because of pain and mostly because I had allowed myself to be so irritated that I had physically injured myself. Deciding to literally go cool off, I ran (actually it was fast walking) outside and called Ames, babbling incoherently while sticking my hand into a snow bank. After returning to my desk, my nose started bleeding. When it rains, it pours.

Now I'll just skip to the resolution of this because the odds are that if you're reading this, I probably called you from Old Chicago on Tuesday night several Budweisers and bourbon shots into celebrating my 6 months at work. (As with all great tantrums I've had, this one related to indifference to a milestone. I'm the queen of maturity.) Nicole and I talked about how strange work can be and I drunkenly told her that she's the most awesomest assitant/friend ever. Seriously - she sets up my meetings at day and hauls my pitifulness around at night. I had her take me to "the cleanest bar" in Peoria, hoping that bright lighting, clean(ish) floors and karoke would keep away all that I did not want to see that night. As for that, I did call and apologize in my own little Sparky way, offering information about toxic substances as peace offering. That and words that rhyme with cube(s).

But yesterday I spent the first 90 minutes at work completing 4 reports. I get a lot done in a short amount of time when I'm not busy trying not to vomit. Didn't feel better until sometime after lunch, though was still having questionable moments into the afternoon. Felt the best after drinking coffee in the hallway and deciding to just get one with it all. I'm a pro though - I even ran a morning meeting explaining complex concepts and sketching out gas chromatograph peaks to illustrate my points. Only three people were the wiser to my condition. Will I make a habit of this? Hell no.

So what was my secret to being chipper despite waking up wondering if I had eaten sand in the night? People that I drunk dialed calling me up at 7 am to make sure I was okay. Really, if someone had called you up girl-crying (you know how that goes) around midnight, demanding bedtime stories, and falling asleep on the phone, what would you do? Well this nice boy called me back and though I don't think I've yet told him, it really meant a lot. And with that, for as badly as Tuesday morning started off, Wednesday morning started off that well.