Remember how I said I moved my blogroll into it’s new little blog apartment sometime last week? Well, I think maybe I should delete the whole thing. I’ve been to the end of the internet and back this afternoon, quite unintentionally, and have burned some remarkably useful hours looking at… I don’t even know what. Blogs? Pictures? In any case, burning my eyeballs to raisins, once again. If I’m going to waste time, I have plenty more productive ways to do it, you can be assured of that. Maybe I need to have a No Bloglines Before 4pm policy. But then how would I read all of those stinkin’ blogs? THE PRESSURE IS JUST TOO MUCH.
I’ve decided to adopt a dear friend’s “I feel sorry for you that you have to be a butthole” approach to anger-processing here in the workplace. I believe the technique was developed for mothers-in-law, but I’m hoping it will work here, at least to dilute some of my anger about our new… um… “leadership.” Some days I feel like running from the building screaming, others I feel like this might still be okay somehow if I just sit tight. It also seems I am incapable of making a plan and sticking to it, distracted by possibilities and what-ifs and bright and shiny objects. And, ultimately, comfort. And the bowl of candy on the admin’s desk.
In related news, we are out of money. Not kidding. Maybe we will get some more soon?
I have officially applied to take the exam to become licensed in Therapeutic Massage and Bodywork. I should start studying, like, yesterday (actually, a month ago), but if you must know the truth I’ll wait until I get the go-ahead to schedule the exam and then and only then will I crack a book, closer to the last minute than anyone thought possible. I could pretend otherwise, but the truth is: that’s just how I roll.