My Depression

I've noticed for the past few weeks that I tend to get down on everything at
the beginning of the week.  If I'm not in a pissy mood, then I'm just
really depressed and had enough of everything.  I think I may be going
crazy.

Today hasn't been a good day either and I found myself cursing up a storm on the
drive home.  It was an annoying day at work and I'd had it with people when
I left for home.  It was a beautiful day today too and I couldn't help but
notice that as soon as it gets really wamr, people's brains completely turn off
and those pesky red lights, stop signs and traffic laws just get in the way --as
do other vehicles.  And by the time my second Co-worker From Hell came in
today around 2:30 I was ready to go.  She, of course, needed help with some
invitations she's supposed to be doing.  She doing them with MS Publisher
and is really pleased with her work so far, but can't figure out basic
formatting (or spelling for that matter) and constantly asks me for help. 
Being the beginning of March, I have to get all our cash and accounting
straightened out and over to the accounting people (who are constantly stressed
and would prefer it if the work they need could be done properly the first time
around --and don't you dare ask them how they'd like it, 'cuz you should know
already!).  And, of course, my CFH doesn't want me walking out the door to
get my own work done.

Meanwhile, CFH #2 --F-Bomb-- is in the boss' office complaining about my lack of
updates on a contact list.  It's a low priority for me and I've been very
open about it (it's about #12 on my list right now and #1-11 need to be done
three or four hours ago).  My boss is shuffling through files on his desk
and I walk in to comment that I haven't actually gotten all the contact info
from her and that she's the one with his résumé in her won files.  She
denies it and says it's an email file.  My boss slams down the files and
tells her to find the contact info her damn self.  The war continues...

I've kind of converted our first aid room into a temporary office so I can
escape the two CFH and get some work done behind closed doors.  There's a
phone in there, so I can make calls where I need to and just make sure I don't
need to use the computer anymore that day.  Some of the people I used to
work with like to bug me about my "fans" (some of the females I work with and I
like to hang around with).  It can't be helped but hang around with women
in the office  8 out of 10 people who work here are women, after all. 
But aside from that, my new "office" lacks a desk, but has 2 massage tables and
a bed.  So much for denying my "womanizing."

I'm at home now and going crazy.  I tried to have a quick nap and was woken
every few minutes by my screaming son.  He's tired too, but instead of
putting his head back and sleeping, he puts his head back to get a bigger cry
and/or scream out of his lungs.  My daughter's missed her nap today too, so
she's being a brat and causing all sorts of trouble.  So, 5 minutes of
sleep for me and I'm not feeling any better.

My parents brought down 3 boxes of photos yesterday as I'm trying to scan a
number of pictures of my life.  I have 2 photo albums of my own here
--pre-marriage-- and nothing for the first 20 years of my life. 
Apparently, after looking through some of the photo albums, that's because I'm
the forgotten child in my family.  For every dozen or so pictures of things
my sister did, there's one of me or something I was at in my life.  The
youth groups we were involved in during our teenage years has a couple of albums
dedicated to my sister.  She was involved from the age of 11 to 20 and was
voted to the top office once when she was 16.  I joined when I was 12 and
stayed until just shy of my 21st birthday and was elected to the top office 4
times, when I was 15, 17, 18 and 20.  There's 8 photos of my time in the
group.  2 albums for my sister.

One of the pictures of me in the album is a great shot of my old "rebellious"
hairstyle and I honestly (now) can't believe I ever looked like that. 
'What the Hell was I thinking?' springs to mind, actually.  Regardless, I
wanted my wife to see the picture, since she's only known me to be a (fairly)
straight-laced kinda guy.  She could care less about seeing it and told me
not to bother last night.

I'm still walking in a daze today.

I'm going to pretend that my depression stems simply from a lack of sleep (got
to sleep about 1:30 this morning and woken by my son's crying at 4:30, then got
up for work) and a long day. 

I hate pretending.