28 Weeks Later

It probably hasn't been that long; well, I know it hasn't. After all, there was that REALLY cheerful last posting.

Since then, I have had a successively imploded existence. The grant I've been working on for the last two years was blindsided by my collaborator's assertion that our working relationship "was unproductive and unhealthy." Of course, this was after I showed callous disregard for how important she is in our work and did not make sure that her name was on an award that was given to our project. She was nominated with me but somehow, in the rush to put on the first ever awards luncheon for Nameless University Organization, the folks running the show didn't realize that it was "us" and not "me." I didn't do nearly enough to educate them. And now, here I am, with an insanely large framed award in my trunk that I'm ashamed to hang in my office because (1) I didn't treat my colleague right and (2) the grant that's supposed to come from the work being recognized by the award is a fucking bust.

Oh yeah, did I tell you that I realized that I am a callous, insensitive bitch as far as my husband is concerned?

And that I've started barking parental bile at my daughter, like "If you don't stay up in your room while Daddy and I are talking I will come upstairs and (insert corporal punishment here."

I fucking suck.

On the basis of this realization I have spent the last twenty minutes debating whether or not I should chill the Negra Modelo (that I wanted to drink at 11am) in the freezer or the can of "Rip It Chic" Energy drink in "Berry In-O-Scent." Hip depressant...or wanna-be-hip stimulant. This is my world. Meanwhile, colleagues and friends are dealing with spouses who have cancer.

I fucking suck. But maybe if I guzzle the Rip It Chic, I can get the dishes done before my husband and daughter get home. That, and actually motivating myself to take a shower would be my most significant accomplishments of the day.