God is teaching me to put my foot down.   How do I know?  He’s letting me get run RAGGED.  I’m ten pounds lighter than I was in August.  I look like I haven’t slept in months and haven’t done my hair in ages.  Reason why?

All I have time for right now is a quickie.

A quickie lunch between shifts.

A quickie shower before I throw myself in bed at night.

A quickie email check, and no time for checking out matches on eHarmony, which is too slow in processing and loading, too disorganized, and costs too much.

A quickie scrabbling of notes to my friends between dental, dermatological, and lunch appointments on my day off, notes which make it into the mailbox late  (but get to Hanover College on time because HC’s mailroom still loves me, and loves my girls, too).

A quickie chat with a long-distance girl friend on the phone (10 minutes, 15 seconds–a record by girl standards). (“You okay, hon?” “How’s life?” “Um, hum/Oh, no. That’s good/bad.”  “Hope things get better for you/me both.” “Love you.”  “Take care. Bye.”)

A quickie Halloween night spent with the girls after I run home from work, grab my things, and show up two hours late to the party before I run home, shower, and try to get ready for more work.

A quickie emotional breakdown following a triple-accident in the kitchen, customer’s dining table, and the dishwasher, shut off by a nice  quick-dissolving dose of a sublingual anxiolytic that makes it so that the anxiety attack only lasts one minute and thirty seconds before I can get right back to work. Mascara smudged?  Yep.  Still shaking? Sure was.  Appetizers late? Yes.  Serving the meal on time, at least? Hell, yes.  I can do waitressing, I’m just understaffed!

A quickie dream sequence. Yep, the whole thing was done and over with in a minute or less, and I woke up feeling like that’s about how long I’d slept.  Oh, and I dreamt about being exhausted and not having time to sleep. That was nice, too.

I also had time for a quickie at Careerbuilder.com–because working six-and-seven-days a week is not working for me, for my private life, or for my physical or emotional health.

I’m off to catch up on my first day off in three weeks.

Love you all!

 

-Ruth

 

 

P.S.  I’m not complaining. I’m trying to do something about it, really. And I know I’m not alone. Every single one of my college-educated, recent-grad friends are in sucky jobs right now and have very little time for themselves. I just happen to be one of the most overworked of the overworked, with the exception of one person from that age group whom I don’t personally know, but who will make for a nice graphic in this post, and is also in the middle of his own quarter-life crisis:

Rpatrzvfairstressedout
An outtake from the new, epic Vanity Fair photo shoot. Poor guy. I know exactly (sort of) how he feels. At least it doesn’t look like his hair is falling out from the stress (mine is!).

I’m trying not to drown.” -Robert Pattinson,  on the overworked, exhausted craziness that is his life, in an interview in the new December issue of Vanity Fair magazine (photos by Bruce Weber–check ’em out at VF.com)

I haven’t seen anyone I know for like a year,” Pattinson told Brian Truitt of USA Weekend. “I’ve got to see what remains of the wreckage of my life.”

RPattz has reportedly only had a grand total of one week off all year, so I know I should stop complaining.  The poor guy sounds exhausted in these interviews. Reading the soundbites was like getting served a hot plate of perspective–I suppose I should dig in.  Life could always be more hectic, exhausting, lonesome, and littered with aggressive paparazzi. At least there’s no one there to take pictures of me on my bad days while I’m rushing around trying to get everything done.

Aside from the nice visuals and the great quotes he provides, I also decided to tag  Rob here because, let’s face it, that’s how you wind up getting new viewers stumbling onto your blog page from their relentless Google searches. 🙂

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