Can’t Read My Non-Existent Pokerface

me circa tomorrow (well, the sunglasses and attitude anyhow)

I woke up this morning promising myself beyond expectations that I’d try to make today a good day.  I was going to start off with an uncharacteristically positive attitude and move on to starting work before checking blogs.  From there I’d complete two pressing work projects, go to therapy that got moved to today and come home to perhaps write some.  I never start out days like this.  This has become truer lately when the most positivity I can muster up is hoping that the milk in my morning cereal isn’t past its due date.

Today reinforced my general rule against such idealistic notions of my ability to stay positive in this world.

The thing that really grinds my gears is that I know better and yet I allowed myself to be one of those people who commences the morning with a go-get ‘em attitude and a pocketful of rainbows.  When I woke up with a sore throat, you’d think I’d nix the whole plan.  But I didn’t.  When I got into the office and was instructed that my afternoon of pre-planned productivity would be interrupted by an unecessary meeting, you’d think I’d give up.  But I didn’t.  When I was told that the project I finished was, in fact, not finished and the last thing I had done was, of course, wrong, you’d think that I’d throw in the towel.  But I didn’t.

I don’t know if it was the expected Duggar announcement or the fact that I had a decent amount of Easter chocolate running through my system, but I kept planning on the day to come out my way.

I can’t point out where it all broke down.  It was somewhere in the early afternoon when I realized this miscelaneous meeting was going to cause me to stay late and my sore throat wasn’t going away that I started getting cranky.  And then my therapist got sick and had to cancel.  Then my car acted funny.  I think the straw that crushed every bone in the camel’s body was the fact that my secretary couldn’t manage to do the simplest of tasks without completely being half-assed about it and acting as if she went above and beyond.

The words started coming from my mind and I had to clench my lips so they didn’t flow freely:  Do. Not. Toy. With. Me.

When I got home at 9 p.m. and ate a bagel with melted cheese as my supper, I think I damn near hit rock bottom.  You know what really gets me?  I did the whole being positive thing not out of a desire to bring positive things into my life, a la The [not-so-secret-or-effective] Secret, but out of a genuine desire to be positive on a weekday.  Not only did I fail massively, but I have nothing to show for it except for a stupid and not-so filling bagel.

I’ve tried my normal self-deprecation mixed with humor.  It hasn’t worked.  I meddled with positive attitudes and stickers and sunshine and it was a mess.  There’s only one more place I can go…

Tomorrow I’m going to wake up with a nasty attitude.  I’m talking just pure bitch.  Concentrated bitch.  If you wanted to drink me, you’d have to buy me from your grocer’s freezer section, thaw me in a bucket of water and mix me with water.  That’s how I’m going to roll.  I’ll just strut into work around 10:30, wearing Lady GaGa sunglasses and an Angelina Jolie/Madonna sense of self-appreciation and proceed to tell everyone exactly what I think and point out their massive flaws.  No favors.  No accommodations.  No asking you again to do your job.

And if that doesn’t work I’m just moving to Australia.