Banging my head against a wall might at least help me sleep

I  might do it, too, if I wasn’t particularly adverse to pain, protective of my brain, and if I thought it would help.

Eeeeyep, you guessed it, a blastfrom-the-past: up to witness fuck-all at the butt-crack of dark if for no other reason than the fact that I woke up about five hours too early in a paralyzed shiver of anxiety.  You know, the type that washes over you in waves, seizing you.  And it didn’t have the decency to wait until at least 7am.

And of course, when I drift toward a state of sleep deprivation, the mucosal layer of my nose gets inflamed and I start sneezing and sniffling, allergy-style.  I have yet to figure out the mechanism behind this connection, but it undeniably exists.

So what would cause such a neuropsychiatric/biochemical mess?  God(dess) only knows, although I think I can confidently trace it to the sum of several events over the past week that aren’t catastrophic in themselves, but, well, when a thunderclap hits the Rio Grande and you jump from several hundred miles away, a hair out of place just might keep you up at night.

As some of you know, we own an appointment-based business, and although most people are excellent about keeping their appointments, two separate clients blew us off not once but twice within this last week alone.  That’s a rarity; in fact, I don’t think that exact scenario has ever happened.  We charge for missed appointments, and we keep credit card info for exactly that purpose, among others.  I don’t know what caused my blood pressure to rise more: the card that got denied and thus payment not received, or the card that did go through, which belongs to a meltdown-prone woman who flies off the handle, periodically catching innocent bystanders in her crossfire.

Other potential candidates include the over-refund given to a person who returned a product, but now owes us the difference, which we probably won’t see for several months and we may just need to let it go, or the front desk, so far working out wonderfully but I’m beginning to discover that several of the mistakes made over the past few weeks have been covered in training and thus should not happen, which means a come-to-Jesus meeting is in order.

Fuck.

So while everyone else sleeps blissfully, I’m kept awake–again–spun into a bundle of nerves.  These nerves are perpetuated by the tiniest things, such as the peer-to-peer download that crawls abysmally slow from another member who is normally lightning-fast.  Or the browser window that color-wheels/hour-glasses me to death before throwing in the towel altogether.  Or the overall financial numbers.  Or simply being pissed off that I, the hard-working innocent who had nothing to do with any of the above, is forced awake during prime sleeping hours, while the no-shows, front desk, refund lady, etc, involved in the above scenarios (and indeed responsible for creating them) all get to sleep interrupted.

Fuck again.

This blast-from-the-past isn’t actually a blast.

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