Ten men waiting for me at the door?Send one of them home, I'm tired.
~Mae West
It's my own fault that I'm so tired, but the acknowledgment doesn't make me feel any better. It's my birthday week still, and I've worked my ass off for the past couple of days. To the point of tears, actually, but again, that's my fault.
I'm so stoked about this weekend, but honestly, I'm thinking it'll be the last of the big parties at my house until the holidays. Something always comes up and even if someone's promised to help out, something always keeps that from happening. Last night I didn't want a mere two hours of help, after I'd been cleaning all day, but I guess two hours would've been better than none. Still, the way that turned out, I think it's better that I didn't get the two hours. It would've been a strained situation (what, with my weepy and angry self trying to finish up before the band arrived). And really, the way that my expected help handled my cranky demeanor was completely unacceptable, and I fear, may have permanently damaged an already flailing relationship. I really don't see how this one can be repaired. Maybe it's for the best; I've got a more than a couple of people that I really want to visit with coming to the party on Saturday, and I just don't have time for any more bullshit on my birth-week. That's just inconsiderate.
What's that saying? If you can't handle me at my worst, you don't deserve me at my best.
Moving on, I also got some really good news today, and I'm hoping for the best. If things come to fruition, I'll be too busy to worry about much else. And I'll get to take that little vacation that I've so desperately needed, maybe even with a couple of those people from the party.
Wow, I think I feel a second wind coming on.
I'm so stoked about this weekend, but honestly, I'm thinking it'll be the last of the big parties at my house until the holidays. Something always comes up and even if someone's promised to help out, something always keeps that from happening. Last night I didn't want a mere two hours of help, after I'd been cleaning all day, but I guess two hours would've been better than none. Still, the way that turned out, I think it's better that I didn't get the two hours. It would've been a strained situation (what, with my weepy and angry self trying to finish up before the band arrived). And really, the way that my expected help handled my cranky demeanor was completely unacceptable, and I fear, may have permanently damaged an already flailing relationship. I really don't see how this one can be repaired. Maybe it's for the best; I've got a more than a couple of people that I really want to visit with coming to the party on Saturday, and I just don't have time for any more bullshit on my birth-week. That's just inconsiderate.
What's that saying? If you can't handle me at my worst, you don't deserve me at my best.
Moving on, I also got some really good news today, and I'm hoping for the best. If things come to fruition, I'll be too busy to worry about much else. And I'll get to take that little vacation that I've so desperately needed, maybe even with a couple of those people from the party.
Wow, I think I feel a second wind coming on.
