Sulks are *useful*. Laugh if you want, but nothing, and I repeat this, *nothing* beats twenty-four hours of feeling desperately sorry for yourself. I love my job. I love my family. I love pretty much everything I do these days, but *damn*, do work-things *have* to hit all at once, I ask you? Bah, bastards. Or better yet, if I could get some time to replenish my chocolate supply.
I had three delinquencies, which means cases that were finished outside the state imposed time limits to workers to finish a case.
This is where problems arise. I'm a very content underachiever in most things. This pleases me. This is what keeps fine lines at bay and grey from the hair. But I sat there, staring at the deliquencies--and two of them were so totally beyond my control that I could *not* have gotten aroudn them, though the third was a lack fo time factor.
But oh anger. Oh shame. Oh, Mel wanting to beat me over the head for going into a fit of pity for myself. *sighs* Oh, rage pain anger. Oh blah blah blah, rivers are cried and tiny, tiny violins play requiems for my ego.
That is just so *sad*.
But wait! Good news.
bigboobedcanuck, the girl of my dreams, posted another chapter of From a Safe Distance, and it is *incredible*.
Beautiful QaFness. She makes me want to write again, except I can't do anything that good. *happy sigh* It'll ache you. read.