I get my evaluation on Friday.
I was 4 pounds more this morning because my digestive system appears to not want to work again.
Sorry. I am feeling picturesque today. Ragey picturesque. I wrote many things today followed by a FFFFFFFFFFFFFFFUUUUUUUUUUUUU. I am so annoyed with my digestive system and I am back to wanting to rip it out of my abdomen. I am starting to wonder if this always seems to occur during ovulation time. I am always going to start writing everything down, but I still haven't.
I want to believe that the 4 pound weight gain is due to my digestive system because while yes, I was bad the entire weekend, I doubt I ate 14,000 EXTRA calories on top of what I normally eat. Hell, I doubt I even ate anywhere near 14,000 calories altogether between the 4 days combined. And I did ramp up my exercise all of those days (45 minutes instead of 30). I hope it's only due to my digestive system wanting to misbehave, but I am still freaking out over it.
I am not looking forward to getting my evaluation. I like to believe I am a good worker. My attendence is pretty much perfect- never late, never left early (except with pre-approved PTO usage), only one call out (three if you count two days when it was much too hazardous to drive and we were under STATE OF EMERGENCIES). I have never been scolded for talking too much (and have never once received the infamous too much chit chatting emails, except when they were sent to the entire office). Am I going to be worthy of a raise? I have no idea. I hope so. For one, I have been there almost 2 years. Two, I am doing almost a completely different job (and pretty much everyone else's) than when I started. Even if I only get as much of a raise as I did last year, it would be nice. I'd like more, of course, but right now I will take what I can get.
I am also not looking forward to my WA getting her performance. Because I will have to hear about it nonstop. I am sure something will be said about her talking and then I am going to have to hear about how everyone else gets away with it, why shouldn't she, oh she never leaves her desk except for no more than 10 minutes at the end of the day (I don't know how time runs in her little world that 40 minutes of talking is somehow 10 minutes; I have honest to God timed her before and she is generally back talking anywhere from 25 to 40 minutes or more), she's tired of all the double standards, and this, and that and *face palms, then bangs head repeatedly on desk*.
One of my FFFFFFFFFFUUUUUUU moments was when I went to call my family doctor and get an appointment just to have my foot looked at. I called and asked for as late as possible appointment and I am told next Tuesday at 5:15. I can't do that and apparently that is the latest appointment they have for a while. What the fuck, man? Six freaking doctors and their hours are until like 8 almost every day. So now I still do not have an appointment with the doctor and I am going to lose my mind. The pain seems to have moved to just my big toe joint and I still only feel it once in a while, like if I attempt to do jumping jacks and even then, I might feel on the first or second jump and no more after that, or if I am coming down the stairs a certain way. It's not terrible, but it is annoying. But my foot just constantly feels like it needs to crack and I crack it and it relieves it temporarily and then I am back to where I started it.
I am just going nuts being a little more inactive than usual. I still am working out 5 days a week, but I am not getting up as much as I normally do and I am not dancing around like an idiot like I usually do. And it's depressing me not being as active. I love dancing. I suck at it, but it's so much fun. It makes me feel good. The first time I really listened to the lyrics of "Higher" by Taio Cruz- and we are all going to assume it is actually about dancing- I thought, wow, that is a perfect way to describe how I feel when I am dancing. I don't know what came over me at my sister's wedding, but it was a fantastic feeling. I was dancing, at times even being the only one on the dance floor, and I didn't give a fuck what anyone thought of me. And I was drop dead SOBER. I had not one ounce of alcohol, except for some champaggin at the toast. My mom said it made her happy to see me having fun and that made me happy that my happiness made someone else happy.
Try reading that one three times fast. It made me think of this.
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