|Tuesday, March 25th, 2003|
9:08p - I hate these kinds of days.
C: "I can't connect to my e-mail!"
[work through various things; bear in mind that the client has already made some indication of being on the network via dial-up networking]
C: "It keeps prompting me to dial in..."
(note: this prompt had gone unmentioned previously, despite having been advised to inform me of any prompts that should make a timely appearance...)
Me: "Are you already dialed in?"
(......wouldn't you be taking those prompts as a hint??)
Me: "[sigh] Let me just check on something here... [laboured breathing, almost grunt-like] Nope, I don't seem to be able to create a telepathic link. Your clairvoyant client program will not be able to establish a meditative session with the psychic server... perhaps we could try something along the mystic protocol; try swinging a dead cat over your head by the light of the full moon. You should then be able to actually hear your e-mail being read to you - though, I warn you now, the kitty-yowling can get to be a little grating on the nerves, and the user interface isn't quite as friendly."
Irritating. Everything today has been irritating. Every thing.
- The cat meowing and purring and rubbing her face on my head this morning to get fed;
- the time it took in the shower to have the water temperature adjust after turning the knob a bit;
- attaching that damned chain on my wallet to my jeans;
- hitting every red light on the way to work;
- having no cars anywhere in sight until I want to jaywalk - then there's a whole fuckin' parade passing by;
- the very sound of my colleagues' voices;
- that shrill beep from the phone when it rings;
- that clients aren't capable of answering the most simple question with any accuracy;
- nor can they follow any kind of simple directions;
- that someone with a "couple of easy questions" took so long that I don't have time to go to the gym to work off some of this frustration;
- that the woman at Subway used a sauce that is definitely not what I asked for;
- that Tom Bombadil is such a frilly, dancing and singing fruit - this is making it difficult to get through this chapter;
- the music playing on Detroit Industrial Underground internet radio this evening.
I've been having thoughts of just leaving... not even getting packed up - just leaving. No forwarding address, no phone number, no trace. I feel restless, and trapped, and tired... oh, and anxious - toss that one in there too. I don't even know why. I wish I was 'in the money' - then I could just disappear.
Some of these feelings escaped recently with the aid of some good ol' Old Stock and a couple of shooters. I'm afraid that I was a bit obnoxious to at least one person, and possibly others - hard to tell sometimes, what with it being my own perspective, as well as being drunk. I wish I could take that night back.
I don't think I'll be going out for a while, and I certainly won't be drinking. Perhaps I'll have my own 'moment of clarity'.
current mood: irritated
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