The Captain of Team Crazy

It's just like they say on Gilmore Girls: if there was a 'you're crazy' team, I'd be its captain.

My job is making me crazy.

I guess it's only Tuesday, but already I have visions of Friday night and strawberry margaritas dancing in my head. The margaritas have little skinny legs, and they're in a row, line dancing.

I told you my job is making me crazy.

Don't even laugh. You know exactly what I mean. First there are the scattered-brained co-workers. Or even better... the no-brained co-workers. Those are great.

Then, there's the actual work. It gives you headaches. In my job, I read floods of legal documents (and today, a 39 page probate) to determine who may legally lay claim to minerals underlying certain tracks of land... being the NorthEast Quarter of the SouthWest Quarter of the South Half of Township 972 South, Range 374 West of the Sixth Principal Meridian, which I, Crazy Person, do hereby give, grant, convey, transfer, assign, relinquish, and devise to Child Crazy Person....

Oh, sorry. It's been a long day. And that was a looong probate.

A (wise) friend of mine once philosophized the following:

A single girl can have one of three things, but never any of these at the same time:

A great job
A great house or apartment
A great guy

If you think about it long enough, it's true. Seriously. Last year I kinda had the great guy. (If you forget how the 'great' guy wasn't so great.) So I guess this is the year for the 'great' job.

Sigh.

I guess what I'm rambling about is this: work is a beating. Until payday, which comes twice, or - horror of horrors - only once a month, work is beating and the pay off is too infrequent. I don't care what you do, how great or terrible your co-workers are, or what you're reading (or not reading) all day long. It all pretty much beats you down, right?

But don't listen to my uplifting, Tony Robbins message of the day. I'm grateful for my job. But like I said, today my job is driving me crazy.

Right??