undersized britches

So, my folks came and stayed with me for 9 days over the holidays. I love ’em dearly but am enough of an introvert that I took to staying up every night for a few hours after they went to bed just in order to have some time alone. Once they left, I crawled back into bed with all of my clothes and stared at the wall for about 5 hours. Fortunately, I had lots of leftovers still and so hardly even had to leave the house for a few days.

It’s too early for the hormones to be kicking in, but as the days went on I got my usual monthly sort of introspective, slightly removed, and emotionally vulnerable perspective on the world anyway. When I get that way, I feel sharp and insightful and caring but I don’t mince words. I must admit that I kinda like it. But I figured that once I went back to work, I’d resocialize and get back to some semblance of gregariousness.

But no. No, no, no. With all of the usual lack of organization and process here at work, my cutting intellect is only feeling righteous to the point of biting sarcasm. Just yesterday, I wrote my manager an email complaining that I am as respected as the third ear absentmindedly tacked onto the back of Mr. Potatohead and suggesting that perhaps sacrificing a goat would be more effective than the way we get things done around here.

So, danger, my friends. Danger. My apologies in advance if I say something that seems a bit harsh. I’m feeling just a bit too self-important at the moment. Tell me something about you instead.

Edit add: Accomplishments for this morning.
1) Complained.
2) Procrastinated.
3) Doled out my opinion like I was an expert.
4) Finished my leftover mushroom rissotto.