Why is it that vacation (while it's a wonderful thing) always brings ordinarily bearable problems at work into sharp, particularly annoying, relief? I wonder if I'll ever dig myself out from under the mountain of crap that awaited me today. Add that to the mountain of other crap that I've been trying to get completed for the past 6 months or so, and you have a recipe for frustration.
Add all that to the fact that it is hotter than blue blazes outside (and in) and throw in some PMS for good measure, and you've got supreme aggravation.
At least there's L and Trigger and the other assorted fur-bearing companions to lighten things up a bit. Speaking of which, the Monster needs his meds again. (There is nothing more pitiful and more angry than a sick cat. Nothing!).
Tomorrow: Who knows? Maybe I'll be less frustrated?
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