Sorry I'm not sorry, and other assorted frenemies...

Apparently, I was a little too mouthy yesterday, being a detractor of the people who beat us and won best group for the Halloween Costume contest.

And I pissed off one of the kids in that group.   Awesome!

Which I found out when someone else wanted to be "nice" enough to give me a heads up.  In case the offended party decides to run it up the food chain (I shit you not - this is how my morning started).  Apparently, I work with 7th graders.  What would the powers that be do, anyway?  Call me in and remind me to keep my mouth shut?  Duly noted.  So, you gave me a heads up about something that won't even come to bear.

To which I say this:

Look - I'm under a lot of pressure.  My family is going through a lot with my father's illness, I'm traveling constantly, I'm not getting enough sleep or exercise, or healthy food or good warm fuzzies.

So the fact that I'm seeking warm fuzzies from an arbitrary Halloween contest should tell you that I'm not really where I need to be emotionally.

If you were offended by my sour grapes, I am sorry.  I try to bring my best self to the table every day, but currently, my best self is doing well to not crawl under my desk and cry for three hours a day.  Then emerge, drive recklessly to a Waffle House and consume a triple order of scattered, smothered and covered.  With a side of bacon.  And a Coke.  A real one.

My best self can't keep up with laundry.  My best self is trying to cook healthy meals and not deep-throat candy bars at 7AM.  My best self needs to spend the weekend cleaning house, but really, really needs a massage.  The ceiling in my best self's bathroom is leaking, but instead of dealing with that, my best self needs a massage, and a warm clean bed.   My best self wants to go buy new bras and get a few tops that fit well.  My best self will take one for the team, and will get the house in order and get groceries and do laundry and pack this weekend.

Because my best self is going to be traveling 15 days in the next 3 weeks. And my best self has been so unsuccessful in eating well that none of my best self's clothes fit without making her look like a pale, lumpy sausage.

My best self desperately needs to get to Goodwill and dump a ton of old things.  And needs to save money, and spend more time with her husband.  And be a better, sweeter wife.

My best self looks longingly at puppies online and in real life, but my best self isn't delusional - she knows that her home is in no way ready to nurture a houseplant, let alone a living, breathing ball of fur.

My best self hasn't been to Weight Watchers in months and months. Her knees hurt and her Zumba class - the one she's been to recently, was a disaster.

My best self hasn't spent time with friends, just kicking back and laughing in a very long time.  She hasn't had time.  She's been driving, so she has had time to listen to showtunes.  But she hasn't had much heart to enjoy them.

My best self has been having terrible, noisy, angry dreams. Dreams about weddings that fall apart, rodent infestations, screaming matches, loud machinery, waiting on people, getting frustrated.

My best self is waking up tired.  And hoarse.

Her skin is a disaster, her hair is a mess.  She looks tired and sick and sad.

And if you happened to not pick up on that, colleague - well, my best self is sorry.

And frenemy who felt compelled to alert me to the disturbance in the field... I realize you enjoyed making me uncomfortable. 

I would assure you... you don't want to go there.  Because I know plenty of devastating things I could say that would make you break into pieces.

But I won't - because my best self knows I could do better.  So...

See above.


My best self. Such as it is.