Oops. in Your Face

This blank page has been sitting here for the longest time. I really want to write, but I have no idea what. I need the outlet.

((Insert whiny grumbles about M here))

Yesterday I worked on some life admin stuff while I waited for the transcription queue to be updated. Some good orders came up, which I grabbed, but I hit a snag when one of them had some foreign language at about 1/3 of the way through. When that happens, you have to stop and contact the company and ask how they want to proceed, whether you just use a generic time stamp thing for the exchanges, or if they want to give the job to someone who speaks that particular language. So that was a drag waiting on the response, but M arrived home and wanted to go to the supermarket across the road anyway.

We’d been hearing footsteps upstairs at really weird hours and couldn’t figure out if someone moved in there, or if the maintenance man lives on site and was up there fucking around. He had been going in there for a few minutes at a time for weeks, but 11pm on a Saturday night definitely didn’t seem normal. There were no extra cars in the parking lot and we had never seen anyone move in. Yesterday afternoon, there was a bunch of people moving in furniture and stuff, but then still no cars out front and barely any noise up there. I doubt we could be so lucky as to have one person living up there in that apartment (it’s three bedrooms), but it sure seems like it might be that way.

Side note: The yappy dogs next door have settled down somewhat, but they still have some really annoying moments. I’m happy with any improvement.

((Deleted shitty paragraph that goes off on endless tangent))

I feel like I’m at the bottom of a well, or something. Like I’m down here in the dark and the cool, and people just peep in at me. But I’m not really present.

Today’s one of those days where I want to just hide from the world. I have a ton of work to do for Tracy, though, so instead I am trying to bury myself in that. M and I have been bickering via text message this morning, so I am inclined to skip lunch because I don’t feel like seeing him right now. It’s not really that I don’t want to see him, and the bickering was stupid and that’s not even what’s bugging me. I just don’t want to see anyone.

I feel like I smell today. I can’t figure it out. I have completely fresh, clean clothes on. I applied deodorant. A spritz of perfume. Nothing is different at all today. But I smell something. Almost like musty sweat. And it can only be coming from me. I wondered if my shirt smelled funny because I haven’t worn it in a few months and it’s been hanging in the closet. A sniff of the bottom hem (the part that sits around your hips) smells faintly of detergent and not at all musty. But the pit department? Definitely not fresh. WTF. It’s cool this morning. I haven’t felt even slightly sweaty yet (unusual for me). I am very self conscious about it now, and I have yet to take the 45-60 minute walk to file documents. Dammit.

Oh, my stomach hurts. I honestly can’t tell if it’s building anxiety or just diarrhea.

I wish I was Ernie. This is how he spent his day yesterday: