(no subject)

You know that sick, panicky feeling you get when things start to unravel all too fast and it's not even big things? Little things are doing me in today.

Like me not having quite as much money as I thought I did and thus payday can't come fast enough even though tonight is the most glorious payday. If I'm lucky enough, paycheck will go in before anything else is taken out. Or, better still, everything else will have already been taken out already [this is after I called and realized "eep!"] so we avoid the nasty overcharge fee. While not tiny, it's enough to have set me on my "can't... breathe... properly" tailspin.

Then Miss Jax stops by her grandmother's, and I can hardly blame her since I work across the street from the woman, so naturally it'd make sense to stop and chat before taking me home. Except, it's Thursday. The day when I have so much shit to do that I don't have enough hours to do it all in to begin with. Says the girl blathering on when she should be doing other things. Anyway, an hour is spent sitting in her car, entertaining and being entertained by Ozma, who is adorable, but still at that age where you can't understand half of what she says the first three times she says it. Then I go to put the trash out, and Mumsy says they've already come. I go to the kitchen and see the left overs from mini meatloaf weren't put away [not that I think I'd want to eat reheated mini-loaf, but others might?] nor were they thrown away, so I have to do that... and the dishes. And make Mumsy breakfast, which is difficult with no milk as Dad didn't get any on his way home and the financial woe meant I couldn't suck it up and snag a gallon he won't drink anyway... let the dog out, feed the dog, feed the cat, make my own breakfast, check email to assure 'im that I'm still alive and check the totals for things...

Little things. I'm drowning under the weight of Thursdays. I hate Thursdays.

*glares at the outdoor world* It appears Mums was full of it since the garbage guys just fucking went by.

I'm going to go poke the slow cooker, make peace with it, attempt to throw together a meal, and wait for it to be time to give Mumsy her lunch. Then dude, I'm going to bed.

Also, once upon a time, I remember when LJ didn't fuckup quite so badly or quite so often.

grumbly in my tumbly

Well. I feel slightly better. Of course, that could be the calm before the storm. The storm in this case would be me getting violently ill. It could very well happen.

Or, I could have just been painfully hungry. That might not explain the fever though. A wonky thermometer would, so... we'll see. If Dad hadn't been incapable of driving me to work last week, thus prompting me to call out, I'd just call out, pass out, and pray tomorrow was a better day. As it is, I hope that I either continue to feel okay, or that I keel over and it's obvious work isn't a possibility. I loathe limbo.

If you need me, I'm going to go finish Glass Houses and then sleep.