Loopier by the Minute

Why is it that, when I’m under stress, my body decides it’s time to revert to junior high and grow zits the size of Mount Everest?  Seriously.  I have one on the END OF MY NOSE that is making me look like Rudolph the Fucking Red-Nosed Reindeer. 

So what’s the stress about, you ask?  Moving.  Lando and I have decided to shack up, a decision necessitated by his roommate, Machismo, thinking that moving in with his baby momma as roommates only is a good idea. 

Right.

Anyway, I’m not so stressed out at the idea of living with Lando as I am about the actual moving process.  Packing.  Sorting.  Figuring out whether the bookcase I’ve had since junior high will survive another move.  Finding out that because Machismo decided to transfer their electric service early, we have to pay another deposit for the electricity.   I hate the electric company. 

Also, there’s worry about how the kitties will all get along.  Since Machismo’s kitten exited the premises and various cleaning and rearranging has been happening, Lando’s cat has been in a bit of a funk.  He expresses this funk by leaving “surprises” on the welcome mat and in the bathroom and also by laying on the hearth looking depressed.  I TOLD him that soon he would have three new friends.  He responded by pooping in front of the closet door. 

I’m sure at least one of mine – probably Emily – will behave in a similar fashion.  That’s usually her response to any sort of change.  Well, that, and stress eating.  Fortunately this does not last long. 

Eventually they will all get along, or at least learn to tolerate each other, but there may be a few nights of “YOU CAN ALL GO LIVE AT THE FUCKING POUND!” before that happens. 

In the meantime, while all this is going on, work is sucking a fat one.  We’re understaffed and overdocketed.  I’m going to have to take less time off than I wanted to because the other legal assistant has a trial the following week.  If I’m gone the whole week before, that will be bad.  It’s her first actual trial, so she’s freaking a bit, and I’m the only one who can actually help her with anything. 

*headdesk*

In addition, the lawyers seem to be coming up with new and interesting ways to be high-maintenance.  For example.  Mr. Meeting has a deposition tomorrow in Dallas.  He wanted about 1500 pages of documents copied/printed before he left.  I ask him yesterday afternoon what time he planned to leave today, because if it was at LUNCHTIME TODAY, I would need to get the shit to the copy service immediately rather than in the morning.  He assures me that no, no.  He’s not leaving till 3:30 or 4. 

First thing this morning, that changes to 2:30 or 3.  Fine.  No problem.  I sent the documents out when I got here.  Told them to be back no later than 1.  While I’m at lunch (at about noon), Mr. Meeting sends me an email that he wants to leave “as soon as possible.”

Goddammit, if you wanted to do that, WHY COULDN’T YOU HAVE FUCKING TOLD ME YESTERDAY AND THEN YOUR SHIT WOULD BE HERE ASSHOLE?

The copy service brought the stuff to me at 1, as promised.  Then, Mr. Meeting makes me go meet him outside to help him load the car.  I was, like everyone else in the office, sick last week.  Nothing aids your recovery like standing outside for half an hour in the cold waiting for his ass to figure out how to get out of the parking garage….

Grr. 

I need to go home and start cleaning and packing.  It’s so hard to muster up the energy to do those things when you spend all day dealing with stupid.