Edges
May 18th, 2010Terry Pratchett always writes about the witches in his stories being on the edges of things. That’s what makes them witches. They’re always living in the in between.
I am in one of those in between times, although I’m not sure that makes me a witch. I sure feel like one.
Two women I work with who are exceedingly rude to everyone finally got exceedingly rude to me. More so than usual. I’ve been surviving by killing them with kindness for a year.
I thought about it. Then I filed a report. I basically just signed my death warrant at work. I don’t care. I’m tired of it. The job I started is not the job I have now. The job I have now is stressful, impossible to get done in the time they pay me for, and keeps getting increasingly complicated. My Executive Director is leaving….and that tells me which way the wind is blowing for the contract we have with the state. I do my job, but I don’t care too much about it anymore. I’m grateful to have a job, but I’m feeling like nothing I do there is meaningful anymore. I want to dive into private practice. I figure if otm gonna go, I’m going to get one in for the other people who’ve been screwed around by these two nasties.
Sweet Donnie and I just had our one year anniversary-for being married anyway. It was a great day! We lounged around, ate awesome food, and enjoyed each other’s company. He dug up a good part of the yard for me so I can landscape.
Wendy and Mike are about 3 weeks away from being married, and are soon to find out the sex of their baby.
Kristi and Aric are having a struggle with Mr. Fuss, and if I personally knew where Mr. Fuss was, I would go find his burned out, coked up ass and get him to do what he is supposed to be doing with their console, as well as fork over some money. I would like to kick his ass. But he keeps running away. Damnit!
Edges are sometimes good. Sometimes not. But when you’re standing on an edge, there’s a point of no return when you step off. I think I’m awfully close to that. Not in a bad way-just there. I feel less scared than I would have before. I have rope-and I’m taking my red Swingline stapler with me.
Oh. I also have a whistle. I’m not afraid to use it.