As we left tonight I rode the elevator with boss R, and when we hit the first floor, I announced, "I now officially stop caring!" and exited. He laughed.
We ran through the script again today: "My nightmare is that you're not coming back." "Mine is that I have to come back." All this preparation and I'm only going for a WEEK, for Godssake! I know he's traumatized because the last time I left it was for months, but that wasn't a vacation, it was on a stretcher and mostly not conscious - and, may I say, they still survived. I do not take this stuff seriously.
I am officially in vacation mode. I am drinking beer and relaxing. But tomorrow I must leap out of bed and fly into action, speed clean the house, pack, pick up pet food and daughter food (microwaveable things, a 55 hour work week and classes and homework do not allow time for housework, cooking, or anything but throwing food in the pets' dishes and letting the dogs out and in again as she zooms by).
WE INTERRUPT THIS POST
for a true call from my mother, as I was writing this.
She: "Cath? Are you coming over? I know you're busy getting ready to go out of town but I was just wondering. My homeowners insurance...." voice trails off in despair.
Me, thinking, OhWhattheFuckNOW responding with somewhat raised, animated voice: "Mom, I'm getting ready to leave on Sunday. I'm not coming over tomorrow, it will take me all day to get the house clean and the pond filter cleaned and buy pet food and pack and such." (And you live 2 hours away by choice, remember?) Didn't say that, did think it.
She: Insert a lot of rambling and whiny apology here.
Me: I'm sorry if I yelled, but honestly I told you just the other night that I'm leaving on Sunday! I can't come over, I have an insane pile of stuff to do before I leave! What's the problem with your homeowners' insurance?
She: Oh, there's no problem. I got the refund check from the other company.
Me: Head Explodes (figuratively, not literally, but you can see why it was literally in February): You got the refund check? That's a good thing! Why did you call me with this tone of the world coming to an end and start begging me to come over?
She: Oh, I didn't realize I sounded that way. Nothing's wrong. (She didn't realize it? Bullshit.)
So, after that we had a pleasant enough conversation, and I started telling her stories of my work week, the unfuckingbelievably stupid problems, the high level of crazy and insanely stupid people I deal with, the meetings from hell, and she stopped focusing on herself and realized that I really did have other things going on in my life. And I asked her why she never calls me with happy news.
She: This was happy news, I got the check.
Me: You didn't mention the check. You started out asking when I could come over, in that "The world is ending" tone. You didn't say, "Hey, I got the refund check!"
She: I thought I mentioned it. I must be getting senile.
Me: You are so damn far from senile. You are sharper than anybody I deal with at work. I should get you a job at my company fixing all the reports that are fucked up beyond redemption. Don't even try to pretend you are senile, nobody will believe it.
She: Laughs. And agrees that she needs to stop sounding so damn negative.
So, once again an aggressive response to Needy Mother snapped her out of it, for now. But it takes a lot out of me, because OhMyGAWD this was a hellish week.
I've opened another beer, and I'm going to spend the evening burning CDs for the road. Is it slightly shameful that I'm 49 and love Pink and Maroon 5 and Matchbox Twenty? But there will be Bon Jovi, for old times' sake. High energy stuff, because I need all the energy I can get to survive my crazy life.
God, how I need this week off.