I Need a Vacation

It's officially Wednesday. Big whoop. 'Hump Day' offers ltitle hope of escaping the downward spiral that is my week. The only way this week could turn around is if the UPS guy drops off a box tomorrow and instead of containing some impulse-buy quilt book, the package contains a plane ticket South, a wad of cash, and the keys to an oceanfront beach house where it's at least 80 degrees and rains only at night for no longer than 10 minutes...oh, and there may as well be a herd of wild unicorns grazing in the front yard.

No, those aren't unicorns...it's a herd of a dozen ratty does that minutes before were chowing down in my perennial garden. I was able to shoo them to the back of the yard where they are waiting for me to walk away so they can resume helping themselves to free appetizers in my garden.

So much for yardwork this year.

Today was Day 4 for the heating/cooling system repair guys. Just another day of things not working out for them so they screw the heat pump back together, hook me up to 'emergency heat' (or as I like to call it '$800 per month electric bill', which is why the thermostat is set at 62 degrees), and tell me they'll give me a call tonmorrow. I telecommute for my regular job a couple of days each week, so they know they can come hang out on Tuesday and Thursday, which means 'see you guys Thursday'.

Speaking of jobs...my regular job (production manager for a scientific journal)  has not been a walk in the park. I'm so behind on reports.I need to do, and we just went through a data conversion that has been my worst nightmare, so just when I think I've got one thing under control and can play report catch-up, something dire goes wrong and I'm working until 7 or 8 just trying to deal with the latest in a series of 'this should not have happened'  that seems destined to remain withme  forever, or until Hell freezes over, whichever comes first.

The second job (part time merchandising, which I do after the full time gig) has assigned a good deal of projects to me this week, and I've yet to get out. Thursday I'm on 'venue scout' detail with the daughter, so that cuts me down to 2 days to complete a weeks worth of assignments. And Wednesday's lunch hour (where I usually run at least a couple of those assignments) is out for merchandising as I've got a noon appointment with the doctor, who has already seen the test results on the blood that a clumsy lab technician leeched out of my still bruised arm a week ago, and from what I can interpret...this isn't good and I'm expecting I'll be spending a full day in the Labcorp House of Horrors for a glucose tolerance test next week.

Had I not given myself a major tension headache trying to explain to the daughter why buying life insurance was not an acceptable alternative to a retirement fund, I might have not stress eaten half okay, 3/4 of a bag of Chocolate Chex Mix while sending her links from CNN and Money and typing emails imploring her to call her benefits office and try to switch to something a bit more suitable. Had I not stuffed  my face after midnight the doctor might have been able to suck a little more blood out of me and retest and hopefully write off those last results. Of course, then I would have been forced to be a martyr and forgo my morning coffee, so it's probably a good thing I sacrificed myself (and my hips) to the chocolate.
And did I mention the three yards of fabric that arrived from Hawaii yesterday that I purchased to use as background for my Baltimore Album...only to find that I ordered the wrong color?

I made two lasagnas today...one to freeze and one for dinner. The one for dinner I decided to go old school and actually cook the noodles (the one for the freezer I was lazy and went with 'no bake'). The recipes were a little different for each and I managed to misread the dinner one and mixed everything, and I do mean EVERYTHING together (sauce, meat, ricotta, mozarella, parmesan), so instead of having layers of sauce and cheese, I had gobs of goop between layers of pasta. What was I thinking?

I figure that even if I did have time to sew, I'd likely break a needle, or lose a finger on a rotary cutter blade. It's best I just go to bed. Would someone please call me when they hear the UPS truck heading up the street?