I am currently nursing a split lip. And I really mean nursing it. Considering my pain tolerance and all.

It’s a good thing I don’t have anyone to kiss. Ha ha.

*sigh*

Two nights ago, I turned the lights off in the living room, sending the house into relative darkness. This is my habit of nearly two years - walking to my bedroom in the dark. No big deal. Except, this time, my slipper came half off, bugging me. So, in one big swoop, I turned and reached down to pull the slipper back onto my foot…

And completely lost my balance. As I set my left foot back down to catch myself, it hit the table and at that point, it was all over for me. I caught myself with my hands, but my right hand slipped off the side of the table, and my head reached the table before my arm hit the floor. I’m sure this is some sort of law of physics, but dammit! I only took three days of physics in high school, before transferring out to play in the computer lab that hour instead.

Gravity kills, and my entire face hit the coffee table in one big sploitch. In a matter of two seconds (that felt like five minutes) I was down for the count. I picked myself off the floor and stumbled, half bent over, to the back door to let the dog inside, cursing and shaking my head, trying to get the stars out of it.

I got a little concerned when I realized I was dripping blood on the deck.

An hour of laying in the dark with ice on my bleeding lips and gums, and I could finally get to sleep. Today, the bruising on my arm, hand and face is showing in vivid color. Yes, I fought my coffee table, and the coffee table won.

On a delightful note, I received a transfer of account today. My 401(k) plan came through officially today, and tonight I’m supposed to be creating a “battle plan” for it. Instead, I keep looking at the overall portfolio of the plan, gazing fondly at the “$905,xxx” at the bottom of the page. I just nearly doubled my assets under management.

I love my job.

Even when it’s a pain in the ass. Truly, I swear old people see me coming and run. I’ve been working myself to death lately, but it’s no match for six weeks of idleness and depression. I’ll be lucky to make $1k this month. That really sucks.

I keep telling myself that I knew I’d have months like that. I knew that stupid ignorant depression would catch up with me every once in a while, and this would happen. That doesn’t make it easy to deal with, though. My pride and all that. So instead of dwelling on the crap, I focus on the numbers. How many phone calls, how many appointments, how many face-to-face visits did I make today? How many new leads? How many referrals, walk-ins? How many accounts opened?

The only safety for my sanity is in the numbers.

Speaking of, the new number is 30. In thirty days or less, I’ll own a new Miata. The dealership found “my” car is in port, waiting to be shipped to the midwest. As soon as it arrives, it’s mine. I’m dying to drive it!

What an adrenaline-filled day. Hopefully I can keep this up … for the rest of my career!

Counting,

michelle