Another day for you and me in paradise

You know that Phil Collins song?

As the message songs of Phil Collins go, I prefer Land of Confusion. Land of Confusion was my very favourite song when I was about six, and Invisible Touch was one of my first two tapes of my very own. And I credit that song on my list of reasons why I am involved in activism. Seriously.

But let's get back to my actual day. Which is not really related to the song, but surely if that song describes paradise, my working life is a located there.

Yesterday I worked for 14 hours. I am too old for this, but didn't really know that until I woke up this morning at 7 and dragged my sorry ass to a meeting at 9:00.

I was the only one who showed up.

I held my eyelids open and slouched away from my desk, planning to get a cup of coffee. As the door swung shut behind me, well, I knew, I did not have a key.

So I had to get one from someone else. Across town.

On my way to pick it up, I ran into my boss, who made a face like everything I said during our conversation was totally, totally, crazy.

Several 50 cent phone calls, twenty minutes and a $25 cab ride later, I was back at work. Inside my office this time.

I accidentally stood up a volunteer at my other job during this process. Whom I'd accidentally stood up the week before. And I never do things like that.

So I stopped by to deliver a display board from workplace #2, discovered that it wasn't finished, and I will have to finish it before 9am tomorrow.

I believe this is what they called cracking under pressure.

I decided that I'd had enough, walked half an hour to get home, sat in the bathtub, thought about crying, cried, took 100mg of b vitamins, and decided to go for a run.

At this point the vitamins are making a bit of extra serotonin and I feel a bit less like changing my name and going underground as a luchador or a hobo or asking to be imprisoned.

So I'm running. And the endorphins are kicking in and I'm really actually having a great run, one of those runs where you are pretty sure you could go forever, and your feet are just glancing over the pavement because you are almost flying, and I feel almost okay.

And then two assholes lean out of their car, and honk, and leer and whistle at me.

So I am venting to you, anonymous internet world.





Apologies that this is apparently not the original L of C