I think that I need one more day off. Today is a day of distractibility. From my office I hear the conversations of the surrounding offices. I try to block it out, but it is of no use. I can’t seem to do it.
My boss has been on the phone most of the day. Like in a Winnie the Pooh story, she has an affinity to commas, rather than periods, creating a frenzied feeling when trying to follow her train of thought. There are times when I must follow the conversation; she knows her stuff and has a lot to teach me. But today’s conversations are not for me; they are for another lucky recipient.
My boss seems to be having a productive day, while my work is negatively offsetting any progress that she makes. She talks loud, and is lively in her enthusiasm. It sets me further off task.
I had a hint that the issue was with me and not those around me later in the day. The major players in my department gathered earlier to study for a certification exam that we will be taking in mid-March. I had difficulty keeping up with the group.
It wasn’t that I didn’t know the answers; I’ve actually been reading the Code of Federal Regulations (CFR) in my spare time. It was just that one person would be reading the question out loud, someone else would already be blurting out their answer choice (and often the next as well), while yet another set of people would still be discussing the prior item. I wanted to scream ONE at a time – one question, one person speaking, just ONE. I guess I am just tired – very tired.
DD and I saw the 8:40 pm showing of David Lynch‘s three-hour movie. I sat through the movie with my fight or flight mechanism running full force (even during the not so scary parts) and hoped that whatever part I was watching would just be over and done with. During the scary parts, when I would have wanted to hold my hubby’s hand, I resisted clutching on the DD’s arm – even though I knew he would understand. As Lynch’s films often do, this film left my mind feeling inept, my emotions on overload, and my body exhausted. And I never emerged from that feeling.
During the wee hours of the day, the blister on my foot would growl whenever I would move my left foot. When I finally prepared for the workday, I peeled back the bandage to find the angry tissue staring back at me. Oh bother. I partially unroofed the blister and infused the antibiotic ointment to the flame red tissue. Then I grabbed my slippers and was out the door.
Here I am, either distracted by the voices all around me or the voice in my head that says, “You should NOT have run yesterday.” Just like when I was watching Lynch’s film, I am just sitting here waiting for the end, so I can get up and limp home.