Today started with every woman’s favourite medical procedure: the cervix scraping test for cancer. Yum!
Nonetheless I was determined to make it a good day, as I had planned a complicated, involved and lengthy experiment, and my technical pride was on the line.
I should have known when I arrived at work adorned with seagull poo that maybe this wasn’t going to be the experimental masterpiece that we all expected.
I should have read more portent into the peice of crispy bacon on the floor in the corridor, and taken heed, but I was, as of yet, unperturbed.
My good mood faltered, spat and petered out as an unprecedented train of misfortune and (my) incompetancy led me through a very powerful storm of emotions that have left me utterly exhausted. Seriously, I can barely even type this.
I ran the gamut from total fury (at machine failure and the fact that I’d been told a few days prior by the engineer there was nothing wrong and I just needed to reboot the pc….NOT TRUE!!! No-one would make eye contact with me until I lost the wild eyed frenzied look), through frustration (with equipment limitations), along horrific disappoint in myself and into a deep well of bottomless sadness from which I only surfaced because it was all taking too much effort. In resignation I remain.
Despite all the trauma, the pain, the self-deprecation (apparently I shouldn’t call myself a fucking idiot out loud….but I totally deserved it right then), what got shat out of the end of my 11 hour coldroom-heavy nightmare was actually, more or less what I set out to make. My pride remains, relatively-speaking, intact.
So….Yeah…that’s a good thing right? I’m so adrenally exhausted that I just don’t care.
Pass the chamomile tea love, it’s time for some well earned zzzs
“It’s spiraling down
Biting words like a wolf howling” ~Daughter, still