Stress Fractures?

I'm feeling very fractured and not at all coherent lately. Maybe it's the 20 files I still have on my desk, or maybe it's being caught in two escrows. Probably it's both.

The buyer of my condo is the most anal person I've ever not-quite-met. She fails to understand basic things like, no, we are not going to tent the entire complex because she doesn't want to have to re-treat for termites that are ONLY in one teeny section of the garage wall, in a year.

Her realtor, someone I've encountered before, is an uptight bottle-blonde bitch, who pushes everyone else to do things at her speed, but then doesn't return phone calls. I hate folks like that.

So, I'm irritated, and grumpy, and lunch was brought to me at 11:45, and here it is 7:21, and I managed to drink the energy blend, but the omelette sits, untouched.

Who has time for things like food that requires actual utensils?

For that matter, who has energy? We've been living on so much fast food (which neither of us even likes) for so long that we're going to end up preserving our own livers.

I wish I had a fairy godmother who would whisk me to her cottage and cook me a fabulous dinner, which I didn't have to help make, or clean up after.

Well. One can dream.

[Whine mode, over. I promise.]

CC BY-NC-ND 4.0 Stress Fractures? by Melissa Bartell is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.