Day one of last week started off with me feeling as if I was being physically assaulted by the clicking of this lady’s heels as they hammered the concrete, like tiny deadly jackhammers penetrating the base of my scull with each step. I thought to myself, this is totally me and has nothing to do with this poor woman innocently walking behind me.  Most likely she was thinking she was being fashionable and not criminal. The clicking could have been a form of military torture to break those who are feeling peevish. It was a form of Chinese water torture for my ears.

Day one continued with me losing a report.  My computer promptly freaked out as I was attempting to save it and the document just disappeared, much like my sanity. I unplugged my laptop and carried it like an injured child to my car and sped to work, with it still on. I drove fast. I tried to stay calm. I talked to my laptop. I said, “Please stay with me, come on, do not go to sleep! I need to get you help! Don’t die on me, man!” I ran upstairs and rushed into the only room I could doc my laptop and get it the necessary help. I dialed IT. They asked many unnecessary questions, like “do you have the laptop with you? What is the age of your laptop? Is the little light still flashing?” The IT person finally took command of my laptop and he was able to save it, but he was not able to save my little document. My drive back home with my laptop was sad and quiet that afternoon.

Day two I decided to let my traumatized laptop rest and sneak off to the office early to get some work done. I had a super productive morning and was able to send a large report to my supervisor for review. My supervisor was able to review it quickly and get it back to me, and then it just disappeared. POOF! The document was gone. I called my friends at IT, and still the document was gone. We sent out several search parties. They all came back exhausted and empty. I threw a mental tantrum at my desk, quietly. It was barely noticeable, except for the eye twitch. If I would have encountered the lady in heels around this time, we would have rumbled. She was still on my mind.

Day three my treadmill broke. Some people have a thing they must do everyday in order to feel normal. For me it is running. Running is like air and food for me. It is the third essential. Running is the thread that delicately holds the pieces of my life together. It makes me normal, mostly. It makes me mostly, normal. MY TREADMILL BROKE!

Day four I stopped to buy a new treadmill. The salesperson refused to sell me the moderately priced treadmill I saw on their website, because he did not feel comfortable selling me this particular treadmill. He felt I would not be happy with it. Even with cash in hand and the motivation to BUY A TREADMILL. The “salesperson” REFUSED to sell me the treadmill. This really isn’t how it’s supposed to work, I get it. But I imagine it was the universe speaking to me in some effed up sort of way. He was selling treadmills not puppies. I’m an awesome parent to both, mind you!

Day five, six and seven completed with a week full of some Pretty Messy Stuff and I am certain the reason the short temper and irritability had a PMS somewhere in it too. And I do know my energy is wacky and this happened even before the thread holding things in place broke with my treadmill. As I sit here on the eve before another day one rolls around, I can only hope that things have or did shift back to a mostly normal way of life.  And if tomorrow I hear the click and clack of those heels behind me, I hope I will be inclined to compliment those lovely shoes instead of wrestle that little lady to the ground.