Yesterday wasn't any better.

It started off rough-I had slept very little the night before and wasn't feeling so chipper. I did the Morning Run Around With Ass on Fire trying to get ready and get to the train station to catch an early train to London. I had tried on and rejected three outfits, including the cute pink shrug that I love but can't figure out why I bought an article of clothing that looks like cotton candy. I couldn't get my hair to lay like the chickie did the day before, but heck at least it was close. With a kiss goodbye to a beery hung-over Angus (he'd been to a company party the night before celebrating the success of his massive project at work), I raced to the train station.

The train to London was uneventful, other than finishing a book with a thoroughly unsatisfying ending and leaving it behind on the train in a funk of rejection for spun-silk chick lit. I was just so tired, I swear even my eyeballs had threads of exhaustion woven through them. But the day was full and busy, and I had much to do.

I took a tube to work, then popped into Boots as I was down to my last two tampons, and seeing as how I am Ultra Flow girl, two tampons would've lasted roughly two hours. Not pretty. I then trotted to Starbuck's for an enormous Americano to try to mainline into my brain.

And into the office.

Bob comes in, cheerful and happy (and why wouldn't he be, seeing as he was handing off all his responsibilities to me?) He hands me an enormous fuck-off briefcase. My arms immediately swing to the floor as I gape in horror at the briefcase.

"What is this? Your weight set?" I ask.

"That's the project projector. The one you now get to carry around with you." he says, grinning.

Right.

I go to the toilet and break open a box of said tampons. Once that's complete, I decide to touch up my lipstick and head for the mirrors, where I see I made a mistake with my makeup that morning. On one cheek, I had perfectly blended Benetint on the apples of my cheeks, all lucious creamy Victorian goodness. On the other cheek I had missed blending two dots in, so instead of Victorian, I looked more like L'il Abner.

Fuck.

I blend it in and go back to my meeting. People begin to file into the room. I set up the evil projector and set up the phone bridge, my laptop, and have to talk all the while about resolving access points with my colleague Alex, all the while desperately hoping I could calm down and de-stress. I pick up my Starbucks cup...

...and the seam of the red cardboard holiday cup opens up and spills all over the keyboard of my laptop and my mobile phone.

With a yell I start diving around. I grap my purple wool scarf off of my Boots bag of tampons, dumping the open box in a little pile like matchsticks under a chair. I hastily throw my coat over the exposed feminine products and start dabbing up the coffee. Alex grabs my phone and starts to shake the brown elixir of life off of it. The whole desk is a soaking espresso scented mess. After clean-up, my mouse is dead but the keyboard-bar the number keys-is working.

Shaken, I start the meeting. Introductions, agenda, confirming participation of the 20+ people in the room and on the phone, and start writing up outstanding action points.

Only keys "hjkl" don't work. So I write things that don't involve those letters, getting a titter from the audience as I write up that we will have a meeting on Tursday. The keys from the entire right-hand side stop working. And then, like lemmings, more keys die. The keyboard is well and truly broken.

Ike calls from across the room. "Jason did the same thing once-he spilled coffee on his keyboard, too. But he left it overnight in an airing cupboard, and the next day, it was just fine."

Right. I'll do the same. Now if only I knew what the fuck an airing cupboard is.

So I use Alex's computer for the meeting. The discussion turns ugly, and it turns ugly quickly, as we are all on the edge and the project is rapidly reaching critical mass. People on the phone are hanging up since the phone in the meeting room is so crap, so I reach over to turn it up. I can't reach the handset, so I pull on the cord a little bit...and wind up ripping it out of the wall.

I bury my head in my hands.

The meeting bangs on and it gets heated. I am aware that I have a pending urgent tampon issue at hand but I can't escape to attend to it. It reaches situation critical as I realize that I suddenly feel prison escapees running on the outside of the perimeter, if you know what I mean.

A trip to the bathroom confirms it. I have bled on my knickers. Nice.

The meeting ends on a sour note as people are angry, the project is a battleground. I don't even get to have lunch as I hurry into another meeting, grabbing a yogurt drink to give me some kind of nutrition. Walking into the other meeting room, I bump into the doorframe and spill yogurt liquid down the front of my grey skirt. I hastily wipe it off and attend the meeting.

Then it's off to another meeting in another part of the building. I stride across the building, trying to feel ok about myself, lugging a Boots bag full of tampons, a projector made out of stone, my briefcase and a laptop that is still dripping coffee. People stare at me, but I tell myself it's because I am confident and purposeful.

When I get to my next meeting, Ron is there. He looks at me, raises his eyebrows, and asks me if maybe I want to check my reflection in the mirror.

"Why?" I ask, feeling confused.

He looks down at my skirt.

I follow his gaze. Instead of wiping off the yogurt, I'd managed to rub it in. It had dried, and now it looked exactly like I had been splatted by a drive-by jerk-off. I looked like I had had a lunch-time quickie (I wish).

In other words, it looked like some guy had had an orgasm down the front of my skirt.

"It's yogurt." I say weakly.

"Yeah. I wonder how many times you've said that in your life, Project Mistress."

I shrug and give up. The meeting stars up, a small group of about 5 of us. Two of my team members, Jeff and Dave, start arguing, and are absolutely unable to get along. Ron and I try to mediate, but we give up after Dave starts calling Project Rocket Riding Gerbil a "recovery project". Like the project is so sick that it's in the hospital. Doctor, bring the paddles! This one's in defib!

I don't show it, but I am so stressed I want to cry.

During a break, Jeff talks to me.

"I hate that guy, Helen." he rants. "I'm serious."

"Look, Jeff," I reply. "He's a bit full of himself, but we need him."

"I can't work with him. Forget it." Jeff sniffs.

"Jeff, we just have to try to work together. We have to get this project done, it has to succeed." I say. And I really mean it. This project has to succeed. I won't let it own me, but I won't give up on it, either.

The day ends and I hop into a nearby store to buy something for Melissa and Jeff for Christmas. I then race to the train and catch it seconds before the doors swing shut. I settle into the train, my projector, dodgy laptop, briefcase, and big bag o' presents settled around me. I smell like coffee and I couldn't be more revolting-I have yogurt on my skirt, coffee on my scarf, and I don't even want to mention the unmentionables.

I am so tired I can't even sleep on the train. Instead I feel my eyes fall in two pools into my head. Bags under the eyes? Forget it. Mine have backpacks.

When I get to the house I am so fucking happy to be home that I take a bath and then fall asleep in the study. Angus comes home and makes us dinner, and then we start the process registering our new address with various companies-utilities, banks, insurance, anyone who ever had a passing interest in us, the phone solicitors who will find us and harass us anyway, etc. Angus is getting more and more stressed up about it, I know he finds the process really agonizing, and to top it all off my poor boy has a bad cold. I try to hug him and ask what I can do to help and he snarls an unkind answer at me (which he later apologizes about).

I give up. My day is well and truly shot at that point. We finish up the painful process of changing addresses and I am so tired, stressed, and depressed I feel like I am actually bleeding out of my eyeballs.

I go to bed, feeling far away from Angus and very tired. I have 80 new emails in my inbox. I have 9 voice mails waiting for me. I have only packed a quarter of the house. I am going to be without broadband and now without a working laptop for a week or so it seems (although I think I can buy an external keyboard and use that with my laptop). I feel like weeping and I do so, then I read a bit of my book before falling asleep.

Tomorrow we move.

Tomorrow is a significant day for another reason as well-tomorrow is the one year anniversary of the day I lost my job at Company X.

-H.

Posted by: Everydaystranger at 10:37 AM | Comments (23) | Add Comment
Post contains 1712 words, total size 9 kb.

1 *big hug*

Posted by: Z. Hendirez at November 18, 2004 11:48 AM (47lhp)

2 god, that sounds stressful helen. *sending all sorts of calming, soothing vibes your way*

Posted by: kat at November 18, 2004 12:23 PM (FhSIP)

3 Wow. That's all really. Just, wow. By the way, I hate Starbucks.

Posted by: RP at November 18, 2004 01:01 PM (LlPKh)

4 Hmmm. If that's what it's like out there today, maybe I'll stay home with the kids... Nah. I'll take my chances at work. By the way, did you ever find out what an 'airing cupboard' is?

Posted by: Easy at November 18, 2004 01:07 PM (U89mk)

5 Oh yes! An airing cupboard is what we call a linen closet!

Posted by: Helen at November 18, 2004 01:09 PM (AeGVs)

6 Really? I wonder why. Maybe the Brits actually let air into their linen closets, unlike any I've ever had.

Posted by: Z. Hendirez at November 18, 2004 01:37 PM (47lhp)

7 Sending you a posse of packing thoughts that somehow your house gets packed without too much stress, that the days after yesterday get better, that things come together and maybe your eye backpacks go off for a little vacation of their own.

Posted by: martha at November 18, 2004 01:37 PM (5HJ2h)

8 I relate to the spilling stuff. It happens to the best of us and sucks ass. But tommorow will be a better day and day after even better. Of course if you get tired of merry old England you can always come back to the other side of the pond. NYC is very nice this time of year.

Posted by: drew at November 18, 2004 01:44 PM (CBlhQ)

9 Oh, Helen, I'm so happy for you! What? Yes, I said I'm happy for you. Can you imagine a more joyous event than a day like yesterday... ENDING? *hugs*

Posted by: scorpy at November 18, 2004 01:46 PM (Sh7Kf)

10 Helen! HAH!!! Only on your blog can I go and read about being an 'ultra-flow' girl. For the record, I'm super-plus absorbency on the first day and switch over to regular.

Posted by: Snidget at November 18, 2004 03:20 PM (lLS3Y)

11 As I told you yesterday,YOU made me laugh and spill my coffee on my laptop and I put it in the *hotwater cupboard* as NZrs call it..its fine this morning. Hope today goes better for you sweetie.

Posted by: butterflies at November 18, 2004 04:45 PM (sUcgQ)

12 Looks like I picked a bad day to make my first visit to your blog! It was good for me though... made my day look wonderful! What a hoot! You are a fabulous writer... this reads like a script from a Bridget Jones Diary. The first scrip... I've heard the second one wasn't as good. So, were there any blokes in the meetings that looked like Hugh Grant? Actually, I was more partial to Colin Firth. Can't wait to come back tomorrow.

Posted by: Cindra at November 18, 2004 05:23 PM (8/HM8)

13 Ack! You win! That was a pretty bad day. Makes mine completely pale in comparison. Here is to hoping the next day is infinitely better!

Posted by: Boudicca at November 18, 2004 06:40 PM (XH1zZ)

14 i can absolutely relate to your 'ulta flow' girl issues... especially the moments when the prison escapees make a run for it and youre stuck in a meeting with no means of escape yourself. Have you tried 'Instead' cups? I dont know if they sell them in the UK, but they were a godsend when i discovered them here in the US. Kinda similar to the diaphragm idea, they are these soft, plastic cups that slip up inside you, and kind of catch everything. You can keep them in for up to twelve hours..even on the heavy days. i swear it has changed my freaking life. My friend recommended them to me a while back because you can also have sex with one in, and she liked that. I usually feel too crappy during that time to want to get laid, but after i tried them i stopped buying tampons altogether. anyway, just thought i'd share a suggestion from one red wave surfer to another!

Posted by: kate at November 18, 2004 06:52 PM (4dWnl)

15 I am so sorry you had such a bad day H. But OMG did that make me laugh, you have a way with words.

Posted by: justme at November 18, 2004 07:42 PM (zdtiB)

16 If it will lower your stress level any, feel free to bash the daylights out of me for being a nitpicker: * This one's in defib! * It's v-fib ("vee-fib"), aka ventricular fibrillation. "Defib," aka defibrillate, is what you to do to knock the patient out of v-fib and into, hopefully, "normal sinus rhythm," aka a regular, steady heartbeat. (The transcriptionist in me made me post this. I SWEAR. I wish she'd shut up.)

Posted by: ilyka at November 18, 2004 10:07 PM (1cb9w)

17 I see. It's in V-Fib! Although knowing what I know about the history of this project, I am wondering if D-fib would have worked too. Hmm....

Posted by: Helen at November 18, 2004 10:51 PM (AeGVs)

18 And Kate? Yeah. I'm going to hunt for those babies the next time my flow heads for me!

Posted by: Helen at November 19, 2004 07:25 AM (AeGVs)

19 I'm tired just reading this. Just one of those days.

Posted by: Simon at November 19, 2004 08:27 AM (UKqGy)

20 Aww.. poor Helen! That sounds like the absolute worst of days. I've had some pretty awful ones myself lately, but I think you win with this one. I'm totally with you on the ultraflow girl thing too..some days its a pad and plugs and still its not enough. Kinda TMI, but unfortunately true. I may check out those cup dealies as well! But cheer up, cuz it's moving day, and as stressful as that is, once done you'll have a brand new house, the red menace will soon be gone, and you made it through to a whole year post Company X and you're happier, madly in love, and living well.. well, most days. : O)

Posted by: JaxVenus at November 19, 2004 08:56 AM (VQs8l)

21 I haven't read all the comments, so someone else may have mentioned this... Master works in a job where He sees a lot of vendors and works with them all the time. THEY wine and dine HIM, not the other way around. So if this goober says anything else to you about gimme some food or buy me some beer, you're the customer, you're the one who pays, tell him no, you're the vendor, you're the one that's supposed to be convincing me I want to do business with you, and so far, you're doing a really poor job. Anyway, that's what I would say. I would probably be mean to him though, because I hate stupid people, and don't have much tolerance for them.

Posted by: nuala` at November 19, 2004 01:57 PM (8ePZ6)

22 hey, found their website! http://www.softcup.com -kate

Posted by: kate at November 19, 2004 08:36 PM (IZxkK)

23 I Love Boots! I have a bunch of their stuff in supply. Especially their mousse. The purple can. Whenever I hit London, I buy the stuff like crazy. When my friends come here, they have my Boots gifts in hand. Oh, and I like the Sock Shop. My friends live in Chelsea Wharf on the Thames. Spent 2 weeks there last June. Wish I knew about you then.

Posted by: CarolC at November 20, 2004 01:39 AM (r2h4A)

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