8:34 am
Monday
Boss’s voicemail: …. Please leave your name, phone number and your message so I can return your call at my earliest. (beep)
Me: (morning voice) Hi. Umm. I am really feeling under the weather. It’s Jerry. I am really feeling under the weather. I have my laptop here at home. I am going to, err… Can I work from home today? I am really feeling under the weather. I will inform everyone that I will be working from home….and let them know that I can be reached via, email, my cell, or IM. It will not be a sick day, just going to do my work from home today. Shouldn’t be an issue. I hope it’s not an issue. Well, I am really feeling under the weather. Okay, call or email me if you need anything. Thanks….(Cough).?
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Previously
6:30 am
My head: No fucking way. Not doing it. I mean I can’t do it. Can I? Hmmm.
7:00 am
My head: Damn…I can’t do it. I don’t want to. Not today. I really can’t. It’s cold out. Looks like it might rain. I am soo not doing it today. At least not the gym- not this morning. Maybe I can do the gym after work.
7:17am
My head: I am not sitting in that fucking cubicle for the whole day. I can’t. I am not going to get on that jam-packed subway and stand there attempting to balance my coffee and read the paper while some fat person is taking up 3 seats passed out, snoring. I am not going to stand through yet another “sick passenger” two trains in front. I am not going to….
7:32 am
My head: “Express train” my ass! I am not interested in doing this today. I can’t. If I got up now… I could shower and possibly get in the mood. (Turn on TV).
7:48 am
My head: Nope. I can’t do it! I can see it now. After battling the commute, I will walk in (not yet to my desk) and SHE will begin with 15 questions about the accounts. I won’t even get to my seat much less turn my Walkman off. “Wanna smoke? Did you get my email I sent last night at 11pm? I was thinking that if we used …”. I can hear it already. That nagging, over-enthusiastic-yet-medicated voice. I’ll turn her down, but when I get to my cubicle there will be a stack of print-outs consisting of at least 4 spreadsheets and 3 emails, all of which I will later find are already in my Inbox. This waste of paper and time will prove to be just that- WASTE. The print-out will mean nothing. They will not show a change, a new idea, a response…NOTHING! I won’t dare read or even look through these, for if I dare, it would just bring my desire down even more. They will be just a statement or a version of something that has already been discussed, possibly disputed and then confirmed, most likely days ago. She says this is her way of staying “on top” of things. But when something DOES happen, something needs to be changed, needs to be discussed…where is she? Buried!… Buried under all those FUCKING papers! Nope- can’t do it- not today.
8:13 am
My head: I still have time. If I am going to go in, I need to get moving. The bed is so comfy right now though. I made a good decision on getting this feather bed. I mean, the pillow top mattress is awesome, but adding the feather bed brings so much more. It’s great for just cuddling and snuggling with your covers and sleeping! Not good for sex though. Can’t get to those hard to reach spots…too cushiony. What time is it?
8:27 am
My head: There is NO way in hell, heaven or Brooklyn that I am going to go through this today. I just can’t! That VOICE. I won’t deal with that voice today. Those one-liners she throws out there all day long. No one else seems to hear them- or at least no one seems affected by them besides me. “Anyone want to go to the library?”, “Does anyone want a pickle?” Where does all this come from? Am I the only one that hears her high screeching monotone and I must say again MEDICATED voice? I don’t think medicated is the word…What would the word be for someone who WAS highly medicated—“cracked out”, went for help and now attends weekly self-help sessions…and now uses that former addiction to annoy everyone around her enough to start abusing substances themselves?? UGGGG!!! I am so not doing it today. I need to call in and let them know. I should do that before anyone gets there so I don’t have to talk to anyone. What time is it? Shit…what should I say. I could say I am sick…wait, no… I have my laptop…I can work from home- yeah. Good idea. Why do I need to work at home? I’ll just say that I am feeling under the weather—yeah that sounds good. Under the weather. I can’t really say the truth now can I?
