All The Difference

I'm wearing the same clothes I wore yesterday.

"Ew!" you must have said. "Sunny, that's gross."

Well, don't judge. You haven't walked in my shoes.**1

Let me explain.

Today started out almost exactly like yesterday:

I woke up a little early. I rolled over, assessed the clock with one bleary eye open, and then rolled back to mash my nose into Boyfriend of Amazingness's armpit and catch a few extra Zzz's before the alarm clock rang.**2

When the alarm clock finally did make itself known, I dutifully ignored ignored it - mashing down the snooze button half a dozen times before actually admitting that it was time to get out of bed.

I showered. I brushed my teeth. I got dressed in my darkest jeans, my purplest tank and my only button-up shirt. I accessorized with my favorite "statement necklace" - a pendant that Boyfriend of Amazingness chose for one of my dance performances - and did my hair.

The only difference between Monday and Tuesday was the hairstyle: Monday was a power bun. Tuesday was pigtails.

Which is why, today, I can say with absolute certainty that hairstyles do make all the difference.

Yesterday was an exercize in futility. I arrived at work fifteen minutes early, only to fritter away half an hour chatting with one of my favorite coworkers about our weekends.I had a very positive report to give, and received a positive report in return, and much giggling commenced. But I was still late to start my day.

I poured my cup of coffee and scampered back to my desk. I sat down in my chair, set down my cup of coffee, and reached for the pile of invoices that were to take up my earliest morning working hours.

Which is when all hell broke loose.

An entire cup of coffee (mixed with a packet of hot cocoa mix, for optimum stickiness) decided to burst free of the confines of my mug and leap joyously into my lap for a snuggle.

Which would have been fine, except that it was 8:30 in the morning and I don't enjoy feeling like I peed myself.

Today, I successfully drank a full cup of coffee and didn't even drip any on the side of my mug.

I wore the same outfit all through my workday**3 and I got lots of stuff done and I didn't even have to go to my icky morning meeting.

I had an amazing lunch of leftovers from last night's amazing dinner that Boyfriend of Amazingness made.

I'm injury free, except for the one bonk to the hip that I got when I didn't quite clear my corner around the print room table.

I'm even managing to get a little dancing in.

Today has been a much brighter day.

**1 You'd love it if you did, though. They're all orthotic-y and delightfully full of squidge.

**2 I know. It's weird. We both wonder why I do it.

**3 I can say that safely now. If I spill something, I can go home without shame. I've worked almost 8 hours, and am confident that there will be enough overtime in the rest of my week to cover whatever I may need this afternoon.

Imperfections

On occasion, I can be a little difficult at home.

I know, you're astounded.

It's easy to think that I'm perfect, obviously... but I'm here to tell you that isn't the case at all.

I'm especially imperfect when I'm in a just-awakened state. It takes about ninety minutes in the morning for my hamster to embrace his proverbial wheel and get me going.

Which means that, on occasion, I do stupid stuff while I'm half-asleep.**1 I mostly just sit on the couch and watch the lights on the router blink until my brain will engage... but sometimes I go so far as to try to carry on conversations. Or move with purpose. And that can be a problem.

Additionally, when I'm asleep, I'm a bit of a thrasher.

My Maternal Unit has compared me to an egg beater, a hurricane, a windmill  and a tornado. And none of those very flatteringly. My arms and legs and head tend to whip about in a mad frenzy, which often puts co-sleepers in harm's way.

In other words... on occasion, I can also be a little bit punchy at home.

Not punchy like "I'm going to grump my way around the general vicinity..."

But more like swinging-fists-and-flailing-heads-and-causing-general-mayhem-and-pain.

Which is how I went to work this morning with a banged up forehead, and Boyfriend of Amazingness almost had to go to work with a broken nose.**2

**1 Boyfriend of Amazingness says he's going to write a book about it. I wish he would - I bet it's literary gold. Not that I remember a blasted word of it...

**2 "Almost" in that I didn't actually break it with my forehead. Not in that he didn't actually have to go to work. Although that would have been a pretty sweet phone call. "Sorry, boss... I can't come in today. Sunny broke my nose. No... it was an accident... I was trying to kiss her goodbye for the morning, and she wanted to help."

9-1-1

Public Service Announcement

Regarding 'High Importance' E-Mails

HOLD YOUR HORSES. Put down the phone. Push away from your keyboard. Close your mouth and sit still, for goodness sake.

You’re communicating my brains out. And to what end? 

I saw your e-mail marked “High Importance”



Worst. Button. Ever.



about some cockamamie issue that you - Grand Poo-Bah Crieswolf Allatime - has escalated to a CRISIS OF EPIC PROPORTIONS. And now, because of this earth shattering conundrum, I'm required to drop everything and settle you down.

If I didn't do that to your liking, I'm terribly sorry.

However, the appropriate chain of events here would be:

1) Indulge in your crisis.

2) Allow me to settle the crisis for you as you pace about my office making helpful comments about how I should do your job.

3) Move on.

The appropriate chain of events is most certainly never:

1) Indulge in your crisis.

1a) E-mail me about your crisis

1b) Call me to tell me that you e-mailed me about your crisis.

1c) Ignore my statement about "handling another situation right now" in favor of summing up your e-mail over the phone.

1d) Walk into my cube and proceed to pace back and forth in the doorway until you see me check your e-mail.

2) Allow me to settle your crisis for you as you pace about my cube making helpful comments about how I should do your job, and (while you're at it) how I should do my own job when I get back to it.

3) Walk back to your own cube to find an e-mail from someone else involved with your project; the verbage in which completely negates my entire involvement.

Believe it or not, I'm desperate to send you some communication of my own.

Respectfully as You Deserve (RaYD),

Sunny