one year

I forgot to book today off work, even though I knew I'd be better being off at home. Luckily I ended up being scheduled off, because I would probably flip out if I were working today. I let a customer make me cry on Monday (he was being a twat) and I got really worked up after two nasty, yelling, swearing customers yesterday (though in large part I was offended that one of them used "queer" as an insult - that got right under my skin there).

These are usually things that roll of my back. Oh, I might give my computer screen the finger, but no one can see that. Customer service means that sometimes dealing with people who are intent on being rude is part of the job, the smallest part but still a part of it. Mostly I can handle it. Maybe I'm feeling a little burnt out lately.

My mind is also a little pre-occupied this week. This time last year I was in the ER in so much pain I could barely breathe, having my miscarriage. It was a long time before I could properly talk about it.

So it's on my mind right now. Not in that terrible, all encompassing way it used to bother me, but it's an awareness that's there poking from the background of my consciousness and it's got my tolerance for other people's crap wearing a little thin. It's an odd feeling, and there's a detached sense about how I'm feeling. It's like a local anaesthetic, where I don't feel much pain around the injury itself, but on the edges everything is raw and oversensitive. Does that make any sense? It's like when I'm so tired and agitated that someone touching me is physically painful, or when my stomach hurts so much that sound feels like being stabbed. Maybe I'm just odd. I am pretty odd.

It's an odd day. But I'm at home today, and I'll enjoy a nice long puppy cuddle in bed, and sit up having a drink (a stiff one!) watching Rossi race back in his heyday and doing some sewing. Maybe I'll make cookies, and I'll probably go visit my little cutie pie nephew next door. Today's designed to be a quiet day.