This January has not been my favorite month. In fact, it's about the worst few weeks in recent memory. Every week, I kept thinking it would get better, but instead every work day involved me crying on the way home because I was exhausted and couldn't see how there would be a time would I be not be exhausted. And the weekends were filled with chores and work and very little relaxation or fun. But January is over! And although February promises to be super busy as well, I'm cultivating an "I don't care what projects have to get dropped" attitude for work, and I think things will be better because of it. I'm not going to be rude or disrespectful, but things are just going to take longer to get done, and my co-workers and supervisors will have to accept it. I'm not going to work 10- or 12- or 14-hour days every work day and then a few hours on weekends, as well. I don't make enough money to pay someone to do my cooking and cleaning for me so that although I work a lot of hours, at least I don't also have to take time for chores.
In other news, I have no other news because I have no personal life. Well, that's not entirely true. I'm training to run a 5K in April. I'm excited about it.
Also, we're having a bit of warmer weather, and one of my plants is still alive.
Also, I have more food allergies now. Darn it. Or rather, I've had them for some time, but my body just recently realized it, I guess. But at least I'll feel better now that I'm avoiding those foods.
And I bought two new sports bras, so I feel all sporty and athletic. Still can't do more than one push up or run more than a mile, but at least I have the right clothing for working out.
So, the other night, my supervisor and I needed to make a site visit after an evening meeting, and he went out to warm up the city vehicle. I dashed out a minute later, and as I climbed into the vehicle, he laughed and said, "You're so cute." And I thought, 'Oh, great, not again.' You see, I recognized the tone of voice and the smile behind "You're so cute." It's not the "I would want to date you" smile or feeling. It's the same laugh or smile my dad gets when I do or say something that makes him think of me as still an 8-year-old. It's the same smile and tone of voice Hils uses when I say something, and then after a pause she says, "You're so pretty." I don't mind it, 'cause it's not as though they're suggesting I'm mentally deficient, but it is, as JLR puts it, the reason my mom suggested when I was looking for a place to live after college, that maybe the assisted living center would have a spot for me.
*Sigh.*
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