I am in such a whiny mood right now. Pity me, pity me. NOW!

Last night I was up late, writing my journal entry and researching Dell notebook RAM. I finally gave up, sucked down the Nyquil and fell into bed at exactly 1:33am. At 1:42am, my phone rang. ‘Twas Max, who was feeling blue. Well, okay, I think “blue” is the right word. He’s more like me in this respect … when we’re bummed, we’re generally itching for a fight. It’s confusing. But I know he was depressed, and he had every right to be. Really.

So we sparred for two hours. That was exhausting, really - fending off his total and complete despair at 3am. The Nyquil-sleepiness and my horrible cold didn’t help. Don’t get me wrong, I would do it again in a heartbeat for any of my friends, but nights like those are very difficult to recover from.

Sound sleep again eluded me, so I accepted my four-hour “nap” with a sigh and piddled around the house until nearly noon. Headed down to the loft, and once upstairs was met by a violent assault of U2. Apparently, Max had spent the night, and was alternately listening to U2 and his old tunes. We ended up spending the next two hours listening to his music and some of his samples (they were hysterical). Unfortunately, playing around til 2pm did nothing for the three chapters I had to complete by midnight. It did, however, serve as a catalyst for more than doubling my stress level. Woo hoo.

To add insult to injury, immediately after Max left I fell asleep on the sofa and didn’t wake up for two hours. Suddenly I had three chapters to finish in seven hours. Not very likely.

So I sat in the loft, alone, watching fixed deferred annuities blur on the paper and thinking, thinking, thinking. Getting tired of what I don’t get and aggravated with what I do. Just generally feeling sorry for myself. I tried calling Max around 7pm, and he was unsympathetic at best. “Hang in there,” he says. Shit. The stress became completely overwhelming. I determined I was quitting my job. Right then and there. I was done.

I started writing things down, just to get them out of my head, and ended up with about fifteen sheets of garbage on a legal pad. Alanis Morissette screaming in the background always fuels the fire. But at least I got everything I was upset about purged onto paper. The bad thing is, though, that I think I left it at the loft. Um, and Max is there now. Whoops. That’s not a good thing.

Oh well.

Nobody likes me, everybody hates me, go out into the garden and eat worms.

Enough of this sinus-headache-induced misery. G’nite.

Mindlessly, desperately in need of a shoulder rub,

michelle