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Perverse

It's way too late for me to be up. I have to be out of the house by 6:45, which those of you who have been around me in the A.M. know means I have to have a cup of tea in my hand no later than 5:45--unless you intend to point me at something you want dead, and are wearing Kevlar yourself.

In the other room, there's a bed, with a warm man in it, my puppy laying beside it, my cat snuggled up where my feet have to go. I haven't had caffeine since 4. I'm really, really tired, and I'm typing. Maybe because if I go to sleep, tomorrow is here sooner, and I'd just as soon skip the programming for tomorrow and go straight to Friday.

Nothing traumatic. Just beyond the pale of annoying. Waaaaay too reminiscent of dealing with a polling order you'd just as soon nuke, but have to sit there, trying to be supportive, while they play out their assinine little psychodramas. I have to spend 4 hours tomorrow night with people so self-absorbed in their little penny-ante politics that it makes me long for the sanity of baronial catfights. And while I've got responsibility for all their little toys, I have no authority, no background on how my job is supposed to be done, and less patience for any of it. I've been having fantasies of walking up to the woman in charge, who is blithely disregarding every bit of how we agreed we would work together, and telling her "I quit." The next month is hell-time for this job (for which I get paid--$200 for the year), and I have no clue where I'd find the time if I was motivated. Since what I'm motivated to do is throw a Molotov cocktail (making one of those I've got time for!), I really don't see where or how it's going to happen. And it has to happen.

I think, come January, when the new officers go into place, there's going to be a conspicuous hole where I used to be, and they can just bloody well cope.

Comments

( 1 comment — Leave a comment )
dicea
Oct. 20th, 2005 05:20 am (UTC)
Definition:

molotov cocktail napkin: The used napkin on a table after a social meeting or cocktail party that has been twisted into a fuse by one who is stressed from accepting responsibility without power and finds that he or she has no respect for the individuals who benefit from his or her caretaking (who insist upon undermining any possible power or support that would allow one to fulfill the duties and responsibilities accepted). Also: the colorful and unprintable rant composed after enduring such a social meeting or cocktail party.
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