This week, my sister had a baby, my family was kicked out of our apartment so the landlord could deal with our flooded bedrooms/moldy walls, and I discovered I’m plum out of vacation/sick/personal days at work because I stupidly took a two week vacation before all this cray-cray started.
This is not an issue of work-life balance or work-life fit. I’m not sitting here contemplating how to finagle a 3.2 mile run into my packed schedule. Or how to grab a drink with some girlfriends. Or when to make a much-needed hair appointment to conceal the gray manifestation of all my stress.
This is more of a how-the-fuck-does-one-deal-with-curve-balls-that-make-you-want-to-jump-off-a-goddamn-cliff-but-you-dont-in-the-hopes-that-they-are-retrospectively-hilarious. And I have high fucking hopes for this one. It better make me pee in my pants laughing.
The birth of my amazing, beautiful, brilliant nephew and the temporary, (but super shitty) forced eviction from our home has been an emotional clusterfuck. I want to cry all the time from both joy and frustration. It’s very confusing. (Related: hooray for Prozac, Ativan, and red wine. Any flavor. I’m so not picky.)
So, I ask you: HOW THE HELL DO YOU BALANCE WORK AND LIFE WHEN LIFE DECIDES TO IGNORE ALL THE RULES AND ROUTINES YOU’VE SO CAREFULLY ERECTED IN FAVOR OF SOME OTHER AWOL SHIT?
(It’s a rhetorical question, people.)
Lucky for me, my kids are quite possibly the most well-adjusted, adaptable children on Earth. ”We can’t go home for a week? That’s ok, Mommy! It’ll be fun! I’ll just pack 100 stuffed animal and 70 books to bring with me wherever I go. It’s great!” Their bright and shiny attitudes make me wanna throw shit at them, but I tickle them instead. (It’s the only form of torture I would advocate for in a court of law.)
Please. Do not call ACS. They like tickle torture.
Also, again lucky for me, my work easily distracts me from myself. Don’t get me wrong. I’m going off the rails on the A.D.D. crazy train. But I can focus enough on the tasks at hand that I forget I just spent a million dollars on movers and I’M NOT EVEN GOING ANYWHERE.
In other news, this lady in my subway car has a sleeping kitten on her lap, wrapped in a sarong.