In which I attempt to write some words

Why hello there, internet, long time no see. Ah, whatever, I start them all this way because I am a chronically sporadic blogger. Makes each one more precious, no?

As this week has simultaneously been “not my job” week, “proposal hell” week, and the week that a potato actually grew in my ear week, I feel like maybe I have something to say. Lucky you. Besides, my most favorite blogger is back on the scene and she’s inspiring. Lucky me.

Gifts Would Help

For months now, I have been working with a bunch of other people on a very very cool project proposal. Sadly, all those people had to leave the country right before the proposal was due. And of course, as should have been predicted by the edicts of Murphy’s Law, the shit totally hit the fan as soon as they all left, and yeah, yours truly has been cleaning it up ever since. This is the genesis of “not my job”  and “proposal hell” week. With 4 hours and 9 minutes to go until this baby has to be submitted, hurry up and wait time has finally arrived. And so I am waiting, checking Facebook, catching up with neglected blogs, and making some words here. I think it would be appropriate for the world travelers to maybe write some little note of thanks and appreciation to my boss, who I think mildly disapproves of “not my job” week, but I’m not quite sure how to make such a request. I’m sure it will come to me. At the same time, do you think it would be kosher to hint at gifts? Spanish coffee and a shellacked elephant turd might really help to ease my pain and suffering.

I have learned a few things from “not my job proposal hell” week though. For starts, I’m so SO glad I veered off that PhD path when I had the chance. This little taste of life as a professor is bitter and acrid and totally no-thank-you-very-much-I’ll-stick-to-water. Would’t want to have to go through this misery to earn a buck. I mean, there are bucks for me in this thing (c’mon, I’m not that much of a sucker for other people’s work) and for T too, actually, so consider me invested. But, all the same, its a lousy way for a “J” like me to live…all up in the air, no clear plan from the “powers that be” on how to get their almighty rubber stamp…blech. It’s been so stressful and miserable, I’ve developed an “eye” problem and will be taking the afternoon off (as in “eye can’t see myself staying for the rest of the day–Byebye.”).

Actually its an Ear Problem

All jokes aside, I really do have something wrong with my ear. So wrong that at 11pm last night, I woke T, in MT this week for work, out of a dead sleep, bawling into the speaker phone because it HURT and I COULDN’T SLEEP and thought I was probably going to have a nervous breakdown or perish or worse. Slight thematic detour–but can I just say that in a crisis, I want no other than T around? He’s amazing. Calm, reassuring, solutions-oriented, and patient. Me? Not so much. I’m more like anxious, panicky, emotional, and irrational. You see why I keep him around. So, anyway, he gets me to talk about how I’m feeling, which requires breathing, so I stop crying long enough to explain that I don’t actually think I’m going to die from ear pain or lack of sleep, but just that I’m tired and stressed and my ear really does hurt but its probably not an emergency and yes, it would be really great if he could read to me, please and thank you, until I fall asleep. Which he did. Because he’s awesome like that. He used to read to me at night over the phone like that all the time when we were living in separate places. He’d read…whatever…it didn’t really matter…and I’d listen until I zonked out and then he’d hang up when I stopped responding or started making sleepy noises (apparently I make a great and amusing variety). Now that we live together, I find it nearly impossible to sleep solo and stay up WAY later than normal which is no bueno because I also have to get up WAY earlier to walk the dawg before I go to work, a job T usually takes care of well after I’ve left in the morning. So, add that to “the week from its not my proposal hell job” that I’ve had–sleep deprivation. TGIF, you know. 3 hours and 50 minutes and counting…

So, back to my potato farm of an ear. It all started on Wednesday, I think. I remember rooting around in there (in my ear) on the drive home…something itchy and bothersome. Maybe I rooted too hard? Who knows. Come Thursday, it was noticeably uncomfortable and I made several attempts to inspect it using various mirror combination that all failed. On FB, a smarter friend suggested taking a photo which is still a good idea, though as yet untested…wait…okay, I just tried, but this is all I got:

Ear inspection via iPhone camera. Not particularly illuminating. However, look at those highlights, blondie!

Not. Helpful. Anyway, by last night, it REALLY hurt. Maybe I was poking it a bit again,  um, but yeah, it was really sore. And in the mirror, it was starting to appear red and puffed up on the outside and I couldn’t sleep on that side because of it. So, adding that to the “week of sleep deprivation proposal not my job hell” basically just took its toll. Que hysterics and action.

My ear feels much better today, thanks for asking. I think I might still try to go to the doctor this afternoon once I go home with my “eye” problem. I’ll keep you posted on what happens (yeah, right, see reference to sporadic behavior above). The whole thing made me remember how when I was a kid people used to say that if you didn’t keep your ears clean that potatoes would grow in them. Why do grown adult lie to kids like that? And why are kids stupid enough to believe it? What lies did people tell you when you were a kid? What lies do you tell your own kids? Let me know with some words of your own.


One thought on “In which I attempt to write some words

  1. how did i not know you were back!? well for a minute you were back. -bazillion points for sara for being too absorbed in her own world and wanting people to give feedback on her life when she’s not really paying much attention to anyone else’s life.

    i think we are the same person in many regards. in the anxiety-stricken, freak out, irrational regard. i suffered through a similar random ear disaster last semester. i feel for ya. and it’s tot not surprising that this shit occurred in sync with other shittastic happenings.

    my parents told me one lie that i can remember: if you stick your lips out and pout like that the poopy bird is gonna come by and p double o poop on you. that many appearances of the word poop in a sentence from your parents is sure to cheer you up and turn the pout into a loving little smile.

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