Angry, angry, angry.
Aug. 6th, 2004 09:35 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ysobelleI’ve had worse days. I just can’t remember when.
As![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
skiafoxmorgan mentioned in her journal, while on the phone with her this morning, I was rear-ended. Hard. Not crush-the-car-and-me hard, but hard enough to make a sound like the Wrath of G-d, scare the living shit out of me, and do some minor damage to my bumper. Of course, with a car, there’s no such thing as "minor," monetarily. We’ll see how it pans out. At least the woman who hit me was quite nice. I did tell her I was going to get the car checked out, but I dread having to call her with bad news.
It shook me up. Badly, I’ll admit it. Partly, I’m sure, because I’ve been hit, what, two or three times before? The last time totalled Mina, my beloved ’90 Civic. Nightingale, my ’94 Civic, fared much better, but still, car accidents of any colour are NOT happy occurances. Being screamed at by my entire family immediately afterwards today to call the police, call the police, call the police did not improve matters. I lost my temper entirely, screamed back, and hung up. Sometimes, I really wish you could slam cell phones. It’s so anticlimactic, in the midst of a towering rage, to hang up on someone with a cute little beep.
And what’s worse yet? My back feels funny. Tight. A little sore. I’ve been down this path before—last time landed me in six months of PT. I do NOT want to be this girl. I do NOT want to be the one who gets tapped and starts screaming about lawsuits. I’m angry. I’m really, really angry. I’d better wake up fine tomorrow, or I’ll start screaming and throwing things.
And in other news? I got some grossly unfair news at work. On top of the morning I’d had, I just lost it. Started crying right there in front of my District Manager, and couldn’t stop. Spent much of the afternoon crying, to boot. I’m still angry, and I’m really pondering my future. Late in life, I’ve learned to value my worth. If it makes me arrogant, so be it. I’m worth far more than I’m getting at this place, and I shouldn’t have to be the one to point it out.
Irony of the day?
Ten minutes before I got hit, I called Lars to wish him bonne chance this weekend, and to say I was thinking positive thoughts for him, as I know how grindingly swamped he’s been. He answers the phone, and the first words from his lips are, "Are you okay?" I’m halfway through my greeting chatter when that sinks in, and I respond, "—What? I’m fine! Why wouldn’t I be?"
"I’ve had a thousand people call me this morning," he replied, "and they’ve all had trouble."
"No, I was just calling to see how you are. I’m fine, honestly. Everything’s great."
Not ten minutes later, I was exchanging insurance information on 76. Jesus. So I called him back.
I want you to know: you are never again to ask me what's wrong out of the blue like that, thus forcing me to claim my world's a perfect place. It’s like carrying an umbrella to make sure it doesn’t rain. It’s just like when someone in a movie says, "What could possibly go wrong?"
G-d. Did I mention the angry?
As
skiafoxmorgan mentioned in her journal, while on the phone with her this morning, I was rear-ended. Hard. Not crush-the-car-and-me hard, but hard enough to make a sound like the Wrath of G-d, scare the living shit out of me, and do some minor damage to my bumper. Of course, with a car, there’s no such thing as "minor," monetarily. We’ll see how it pans out. At least the woman who hit me was quite nice. I did tell her I was going to get the car checked out, but I dread having to call her with bad news.It shook me up. Badly, I’ll admit it. Partly, I’m sure, because I’ve been hit, what, two or three times before? The last time totalled Mina, my beloved ’90 Civic. Nightingale, my ’94 Civic, fared much better, but still, car accidents of any colour are NOT happy occurances. Being screamed at by my entire family immediately afterwards today to call the police, call the police, call the police did not improve matters. I lost my temper entirely, screamed back, and hung up. Sometimes, I really wish you could slam cell phones. It’s so anticlimactic, in the midst of a towering rage, to hang up on someone with a cute little beep.
And what’s worse yet? My back feels funny. Tight. A little sore. I’ve been down this path before—last time landed me in six months of PT. I do NOT want to be this girl. I do NOT want to be the one who gets tapped and starts screaming about lawsuits. I’m angry. I’m really, really angry. I’d better wake up fine tomorrow, or I’ll start screaming and throwing things.
And in other news? I got some grossly unfair news at work. On top of the morning I’d had, I just lost it. Started crying right there in front of my District Manager, and couldn’t stop. Spent much of the afternoon crying, to boot. I’m still angry, and I’m really pondering my future. Late in life, I’ve learned to value my worth. If it makes me arrogant, so be it. I’m worth far more than I’m getting at this place, and I shouldn’t have to be the one to point it out.
Irony of the day?
Ten minutes before I got hit, I called Lars to wish him bonne chance this weekend, and to say I was thinking positive thoughts for him, as I know how grindingly swamped he’s been. He answers the phone, and the first words from his lips are, "Are you okay?" I’m halfway through my greeting chatter when that sinks in, and I respond, "—What? I’m fine! Why wouldn’t I be?"
"I’ve had a thousand people call me this morning," he replied, "and they’ve all had trouble."
"No, I was just calling to see how you are. I’m fine, honestly. Everything’s great."
Not ten minutes later, I was exchanging insurance information on 76. Jesus. So I called him back.
I want you to know: you are never again to ask me what's wrong out of the blue like that, thus forcing me to claim my world's a perfect place. It’s like carrying an umbrella to make sure it doesn’t rain. It’s just like when someone in a movie says, "What could possibly go wrong?"
G-d. Did I mention the angry?
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
The angry!
Date: 2004-08-07 12:54 pm (UTC)M
no subject
Date: 2004-08-08 05:30 am (UTC)Gah!
Date: 2004-08-08 06:23 pm (UTC)Here's something to cheer you:
http://www.miscelena.com/rickandbethandnikki
*grin*
no subject
Date: 2004-08-09 05:22 am (UTC)If it makes you feel better I got a great pic of him this weekend.
no subject
Date: 2004-08-09 07:27 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-08-09 07:32 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-08-09 08:08 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-08-09 08:11 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-08-09 08:13 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-08-09 09:40 pm (UTC)-Much agreed!
My back feels funny. Tight. A little sore
maybe some mona's muscle magic?? Hopefully you wont need Pain and Torture(my FOND names for PT)
HUGS from the other side of the state
Momentary persepective.
Date: 2004-08-13 11:36 am (UTC)So...
The Universe Blows right now.
Makes me happy to see a fri 13th.
*Hugs and smirkies*
addendum...
Date: 2004-08-13 11:38 am (UTC)I think all summer, really. Maybe all year.
I think I'm getting Fuck This Noise Syndrome.
Re: addendum...
Date: 2004-08-13 05:42 pm (UTC)