A Quarter Life Crisis

Rants With Atmosphere!!!

Jumping Back Into The Swing of Things


What is this thing that they call work? Yesterday the alarm clock rang at 5:45AM and I looked at it with pure disgust. Such a tiny little object producing such a large amount of pain. Granted it was partially my fault. When The Best and Nurse Friend called late evening I had ample opportunity to roll over and ignore their call but I felt gossip was brewing so I rose mid slumber to get the juice.

No juice just a silly little conversation about pronouncing the word, Aromatic. There is a back story. The Best Friend decided to pick up some Jasmine Rice and was having a little trouble pronouncing the word. She enlisted the help of Nurse Friend and when both decided neither of their pronunciations were appropriate I received a 10:15ish phone call about nothing. No harm no foul! My suggestion (and yes I do know the proper pronunciation after the groggies wore off) instead of sounding like a babbling loon just say I had some Jasmine Rice last night for dinner and it had such intense flavor or dinner last night was savory due in large part to the Jasmine Rice, it's quite zesty.

Hindsight is 20/20. I should have just glanced up at the ringing phone and went back into slumberville. Why....because after the rousing conversation about rice, I couldn't get back to sleep. Even my knock me out with one punch trick didn't work, watching CSI Miami late night. For some reason David Caruso and his weird acting style zonks me right out. No such luck. I was up starring at the ceiling and wondering why I never built that bike rack so my cycle could hang nicely from the wall like you see in those swanky apartments on TV.

On and on my mind wandered not realizing that in a few short hours I would need to be up and ready for the first day back to work after holiday. (If anyone wants to know A&E kept playing the same two episodes of CSI Miami back to back). Initially it felt all deja vu-ish and almost like I hadn't wasted much sleeping hours watching the red haired detective but when I glanced up at the funky blue neon light of the alarm clocked four hours passed and I was seeing the first episode for the third time.

Really my brain was probably on overdrive due in large part to the work I'd anti-completed over the extended break. There had to be some clever little way to skirt around the fact that:

  • I didn't start the file review
  • I didn't begin the presentation
  • I didn't even read the new project start up documents (how much effort would that have taken)

Side note, I'm positive the person who invented work is dead while the person who invented fun is still enjoying it.

So after hitting the snooze, lying, turning the alarm off and faking sleep for another 1/2hr to 45 mins I got up and began the morning work ritual. Believe me there wasn't nearly as much pep in my step and I did it with lead feet and no smile.

Arriving at the office was no less painful than getting up super early. Everyone had that why am I here look on his/her face with a slight hint of if I didn't need this paycheck I would just chalk it and lounge all day in my pjs.

Initially work seemed so foreign, like it was some new concept I'd never been introduced to. The cube has my name on it so I guess it's mine. My white board still housed the remnants of my to do list from before the break, just a further reminder of what I hadn't accomplished in my absence. But by mid morning work began to shape into something more familiar especially when my manager sent me an IM asking for a status.

Now was probably not the time to tell her about my list of didn'ts.

Man, it's the first day back and already I'm checking the calendar for the next extended weekend!

2 Pardon My French:

Me-Me King said...

You can't imagine how many alarm clocks I've owned that found their way up against my wall. I feel for ya.

Omar Modesto said...

Back in high school, on the first morning of the first day of each schoolyear, as soon as I heard my mother telling me to get up, I'd mutter to myself: Oh, no. Nine more months of high school hell.

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