This just in

We got a counter-offer from the seller today. We don't like it. Now we're going to make a counter-offer.

This stuff is really maddening and complicated and it's making me anxious. Last weekend when I was overtired and anxious at the same time, I nearly came undone. In fact, if you count Saturday afternoon when I was prepping for our games night with Scott's work nerds, I actually came undone. I cried and cried about what a terrible person I am.

When I told Bex at lunch on Monday about how I spent Saturday afternoon crying about being a terrible person, she actually laughed out loud. "You're a terrible person?!" she exclaimed. "That's so funny, Jennifer Myszkowski!"

Well, it wasn't funny when I was crying out loud about it, but I guess it's funny in retrospect.

We've recently made new friends with a couple. Being in a couple means you make friends with people in couples. Couples culture is really weird. That's a story for another day.

Anyway, one member of the couple is a mortgage specialist, so I consulted with her about the mortgage I got approved for, and her bank has a mortgage "product" that I qualify for that has a WAY lower interest rate.

I don't think in math. At all. And now I'm having conversations with various people that are basically all about the math of making the money I have stretch into a bunch of different things. It actually makes my brain hurt.

The beauty part is that I have no qualms about saying, "I have no idea what you just said to me." When I was younger, I had a hard time admitting total incomprehension. Now I just don't care if people think I'm a moron. Sometimes when the people are talking to me in math, I have to actually cover my eyes and listen just to the words to try to make myself understand.

I regret how things have gone with math and me. I was so good at it in junior high. I was so full of promise. God damn you, honors algebra 2! See! That's how good I was. My teacher recommended me for honors algebra 2. Alas, it was my math downfall, despite staying after school two and three times a week for extra help. I just couldn't recover.

We're consulting tomorrow morning with our realtor about our counter-offer. We'll see what happens. I'll keep you posted. Obviously.

Where are the humans?

It's sometimes really hard to be a human in corporate America. Actually being a human isn't hard necessarily. From the looks of it, it must be hard staying a human since so few people are successful at it.

The robots are really getting me down. I would love to tell you about what fresh heck they brought upon me today, but I can't. I'll just say this:

When someone says something that presupposes something completely ridiculous and they take an adversarial tone with you from the beginning, you should not say, "I'm not trying to challenge you, but I would like to present a question," and then present a question that reveals the presupposition to be total bullshit.

If you try to show a robot humanity, they will turn their head away and refuse to see. It's like humanity is kryptonite to the corporate robots.

It took all my strength not to excuse myself to the lavatory for a good cry. Of course, the lavatory is about as good a place for a good cry as a Broadway stage what with all the people. Anyway, as it was, I teared up a little at my desk.

I've sort of cracked the code about how people turn into robots: it's all fear. There is so much fear you can feel it. People are afraid of their peers, their bosses, their underlings, customers, vendors, you name it. No one can be trusted. And that includes you.

I haven't cracked the code about how to turn them back into humans. I think there's a closet somewhere just full of souls desperate to get back into the bodies of their people.

Typing that just made me start crying. It's just the saddest thing.

I talked to a colleague who's been in corporate America for a really long time and, for reasons that I cannot ascertain, has remained fairly human. I asked him, "How do you steel yourself from the inhumanity in here and stay human." He didn't really have an answer. I told him that if he had any tips that he should stop by my cubicle.

So lonesome

Scott left this morning to go to NY to see his mom before she goes back home to Italy. Also, he's visiting is sister and niece. He's coming back on Thursday. He's got the car. Did you know we're a one-car family?

I worked out rides home from work today and to work on Thursday and I'm working from home on Wednesday. So everything's fine.

But, hell, I'm lonesome - and it's only been one evening! I came home from work, made a crappy dinner for myself (baked sweet potato, a giant pile of green beans and too many cookies), ate it and have been reading Newsweek for the last hour. The excitement is palpable.

If Scott were here, we would still be eating dinner and figuring out if we wanted to read or watch a movie for the evening. Being by myself, I can't think of a compelling reason not to just go to bed.

I desperately didn't want him to go for purely selfish reasons. And I did want him to have some extra one-on-one time with his mom before she hops the pond back home. I just knew I'd be lonely and miss him terribly. His mother was really excited to get a little extra time with him, and Scott was really excited to get some extra time with her, so I guess everyone wins. Even me, since now I'll have time to work in my poetry.*

Isn't it crazy how just two years ago this lonesomeness was my life, but it didn't feel lonesome at all? Sometimes it scares me how emotionally dependent I am on Scott. Or are we interdependent? I don't know. I just really like having him around.



* This is a joke because the only poetry I write is hilarious haiku for entertainment value only, which I then recite in an extremely showy way, much like I do everything else. I make it a point never to read poetry written by anyone I know and want to stay friends with just in case it's terrible and I can no longer look them in the eye. Does this make me bad?

Overwhelmed

I'm kind of overwhelmed by my life lately. I think it might be time to call the nice lady I sometimes pay to listen to me cry.

Work is really getting to me. I'd say more about it, but everyone knows where I work and I'm not interested in getting into any hot water over there. It's hard being in a place with so few kindreds and swimming with - gosh, I don't even know what. I've never worked anywhere where I didn't feel safe making friends with people. I don't have crazy career ambitions. I just want to work and have health insurance and enough money to pay my bills, save a little and spend a little. That's all I want. I'm not trying to climb the ladder on anyone else's back.

The career I want to care about is my comedy. I'm putting a lot of me into that venture. But I need to do more. Problem is time. I can't do it all without burning out a little.

Right now I'm doing, on average, two shows a week. Sometimes three. I work my corporate drone job five days. I work a few hours on the weekend at the radio station. The nights I have free, I'm so tired I end up just lying around.

I need to figure out how to do less, but how?

(Aside: Want to be my patron?)

This is the first time in my life that I haven't been broke all the time, though, and it's all because of this work-a-day job that's been getting to me. Really, it's a huge relief not having to worry about money all the goddamned time. Instead, I can worry about coming unglued.

And who am I kidding? If I were a billionaire, I'd still worry about money; it's part of my DNA.

I'm sure this will blow over. It usually does.

Meanwhile, remember Girls! Girls! Girls! is on Friday. Even if I'm still in this funk, I'll be hilarious on a stage. I promise.