Weird

woke up late again. A little wigged about it.
Then my "15 minutes on Livejournal" has become 45.
I NEED a shower. My boss isn't going to be happy. This is why I HATE working on the Cape - the hour kills me.
Want to go out tonight, need to ask about the tickets. I think I'm just going to order mine, and email Chris to order his, I can't afford his right now anyway *grins* If I don't make it out tonight I will.

My clients won't leave me alone, I actually got a call from one I haven't heard from in months, asking me about a form I've never heard of, and asking what "I DID" with some forms from 2002. Since I haven't been in there since, oh, May of last year, I have no idea where the form is. Did you look in the drawer where all the 2002 info is? No? maybe you should. *sighs* Can I come in and look. *sighs*

Then another calls for their frigging monthly bank statements, which they should be doing themselves, but if they were their credit line wouldn't be recorded at ALL, since they OBVIOUSLY haven't used it, and not to the tune they've used it either. *sighs again* Oh, and am I doing the spoiled brat's taxes again? (The boss's daughter. Frigging 1040EZ, can't be bothered to think herself. Stupid little girl. I'm still irritated that she traded in a red Mustang Convertible for a white PT Cruiser. A MUSTANG CONVERTABLE. What the hell is WRONG with people.)

It's not that I can't handle this. I just can't handle it to this extent. There's just too much. Every time I get a minute to myself, someone calls and wants to know why I haven't worked on *blah*. I'm going to blow, I can feel it.

Ok I need to shower, the longer I sit here, the later I should be working, and the less likely it is I'm going out. And I do want to. I also want to watch Witch Hunter Robin tonight. I've failed to stay up to watch it every time I've gone out (It's on again at 3. I make it to about 2:30.)

I'd just like to make it clear, that anyone who bitches at me that their taxes aren't done yet, and when will I have time to do them (nicely or otherwise) is just going to either get beatdown, or have me break on them. I have worked EVERY SINGLE DAY for the past two weeks. I might have slacked in getting to work, but I've been there. When I drag myself home, it's in time to read LJ, email, do some more work, and go to bed. This includes Sunday. Asking me when I'll have time - I don't. It's a stupid question. I asked WEEKS ago about availability, noone seemed to care, so neither do I. I know I've gotten a couple of people who HAVE emailed me, I'm trying to remember them, but to be honest, TaxSlayer is my FRIEND! I will end up pointing you to them. I just don't see a light at the end of the tunnel. And if I get any of those emails today, the answer I'm going to be giving out is "No." You have been warned.

OK, I'm Way late. I need a shower. I need a coffee. I could use some early lunch. I feel bad I don't have time to feel bad for people, there's some who could use some sympathy or an ear. I just don't have it.

(no subject)

And I forgot the joy of of breaking in Doc blisters. Which I have. In very painful spades. The things were on two hours last night. *sighs* definately thinker socks.

ANd on that I really think I'm going to post privately until the end of tax season. I think this half life is killing me, I think I need all or nothing. Hrm, maybe I should shut off LJ entirely - might not be a bad idea.

Food for thought.

Here's why I don't want to drive the hour

- she doesn't like my haircut, thinks it's "too short" in the back, and gave me that "oh you got your hair cut too short" pity look.

- The hour long ride in which I ran the gamut (I know that's not spelled right) of emotions. If I weren't ABSOLUTELY sure, I'd swear I was pregnant, on that particular emotional roller coaster. Unless it's to be a virgin birth (so to speak, you pervs) I'm not, and I'm not Catholic anymore either, so don't start. Seriously, all mood swingies can stop anytime now.

- My hell client calling, needing to vent (OK) needing to vent for 20 minutes (not really OK) and her ORDERING ME off the phone. OK I know I'm on her time, but it wasn't a personal call, so to speak, I wouldn't be billing her for it, and it's MY JOB to talk to this woman. Honestly, don't speak to me like I'm a 15 year old on punishment.

- My phone ringing again (another client) and her glaring at me. This is a call I NEEDED to take, since it hinges on my schedule tomorrow. She doesn't care about tomorrow, she cares about today when I'm on her time.

- to top it off, I just don't feel like I'm going to get out of here in either time, or a good enough mood to go out.

Now, HERE'S where I don't want any arguement. This is not the first time this client has cost me a night out, or, as I see it, a night off. I give up EVERY OTHER night I want to go out. Hell nights, Miss Gothic Mass, parties, Goffee, even casual dinners, so I can work. I promised myself that at LEAST I could go relax every Wednesday night. I can watch Angel, get ready, go out and see people, have a drink, and just revel in 3 hours where its NOT POSSIBLE for me to work.

And, thanks to her, I can't. Even if I get out of here, my mood is so foul, I can't even contemplate it. I don't want to talk to anyone, not even Hottie Pants Constantine. THAT'S saying something. (Awwww, that just brought a grin to my face. You think he'd let me have a picture of him to carry around and look at when I get depressed? Wow, that's just plain WEIRD isn't it?)

I'm just going to go home, pull my covers over my heads, watch Witch Hunter Robin and go to sleep.

I mean, I'm getting angry at people who say hi. I'm angry when my friends talk to my other friends, but don't call me. Except I know it's because I can't talk to them anyway. This has got to stop.

The Madness Must End!
*runs around, screaming*

Why do I suddenly feel like Marie Antionette?
Am I going to start THROWING cake too?
Cake or death?
Death please.
We're out of....did you say Death?
Yes, please.
Um, noone's ever asked for Death before.
Oh. Does that mean no Death.
No, we're just confused, that's all.

*sighs* BAck to work before she gets off the phone. My rebellion is over. Rebel Scum.

(no subject)

Well, it's probably a good thing I'm kinda stuck in the office, the boss just left and I have *counts* four returns to finish.

I saw something on Angel Philosphy that made me check the listing.

No.
Freaking.
Angel.
Tonight.

Someone must die now.
Die lots of death.

Although this means I can stay and work, it also means I have to stay and work.
*sighs*

The body wants a drink, and wants to go out. The spirit is convinced we'll go on a killing spree, so you'll be happy to know we'll be staying home. Probably with a sixpack.

If home equals work that is. It's gotten very windy, so my hour's drive could be a deathtrap in my plastic car.

How many times did I just use "death"?