I was concerned that my three-day streak of wanting to sit in the bathroom and bawl my eyes out would end Wednesday, but I really shouldn't have been concerned. I was ready to do that after being at work maybe two hours, which really isn't a very good thing.
I don't even want to talk about it, it disgusts me and upsets me so much, and I'm pretty sure that not many people would get it. I'm sure I'd just be pegged as being overly dramatic and having "poor me" syndrome.
It's almost like a conspiracy to drive me completely over the edge. It's almost like an extension of home. Yeah, chew on that for a while and see if you can figure it out. I bet some of you can.
Our new sixth editor that I absolutely adored (and still do of course, but:) left us and we've been four days without her and it already sucks even more than I remember it sucking before she was here. So Sarah, if you happen to read this, please, please please come back!
But, you know, it's not just work that feeds the need for the fetal position.
Editor's note: This was written last night, and while I'm still stressed out, I'm off today and feel a bit better. I'm going to do the purse meme in a bit to cheer myself up.
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