Night Circle

I'm siting at my desk experiencing an ever increasing sense of disconnected free form irritation.

Papers rustling - how goddamn annoying

J clearing his throat - oh, no, please stop. Please, please stop before I punch you

My messy desk that needs to be packed up today so I can move to a fucking touch down room (a tiny hole with one table and a phone because we are hiring a new attorney who starts on Monday and the building is being restructured and there are no available free cubicles so I have to be shunted to the hole while the attorney gets my cube because I am a fucking nobody lowly peon.

As J points out, without a college degree choices can be limited. Yeah? No shit.

Just as I realize I have PMS (in itself making me feel wrathful), my goddamn phone rings and it's the traveling corporate nurse.

Can I come down for a random drug and alcohol screening in half an hour?

This is why I don't walk around armed. Except with a bottle of fucking water which I have to chug so I can successfully pee into a cup.

I don't want to even think about what a monster I'm going to be on Monday. Maybe it's a good thing I'll have a door I can close to shut me away from the rest of the world.

I can't wait to go home tonight and dive into a glass of champagne.

Crap, J just cleared his throat for the 30th time in an hour.

Maybe I will need a bubble bath too.

I wish I could twirl my head around my neck like Regan in the Exorcist. That might bleed off some of this malevolent wrath I've got building here.

Must go drink water, goddamnit.