another case of work interfering with my joy

I came home from work today emotionally and physically exhausted. I spent the first half of the day running around and sweating because it was busy at work and I stupidly wore a white tee with a black bra under my sweater so I couldn’t take a layer off when I got hot. And then I spent the second half of the day being cornered by people whose only ambition was to TALK MY EAR OFF and have conversations about things I don’t care about.

Sometimes I’m happy having conversations with people as they go through their programs, and most of the time people are interesting. But today I had the Italian lady who wanted to talk about how Puerto Ricans should not refer to Puerto Rico as “their country” because we own it. (Who is we?) And the seventy-year-old guy with the head injury who has a hard time keeping inappropriate thoughts to himself, who likes to tell me about his failing libido (still feel sexy, can’t get it up) who calls me “pretty little girl” whenever he needs to get my attention because he can’t remember my name (my name that is typed in HUGE LETTERS on the name badge I wear around my neck for all the world to see), prompting my coworkers to tease me for the rest of the afternoon about how I have a way with the elderly gentlemen. And finally the hyperactive lady who needs to always be stimulated and refuses to ride the stationary bike or walk on the treadmill unless someone is standing there next to her talking. She complains that she is bored, and it’s not fun and she gets distracted and once almost fell off the back of the treadmill because she tried to turn around and look for someone to talk to. But when I stand there and talk to her she wants to discuss things like how magnets work and debate with me the definition of a calorie and what exactly it takes to burn one (I’ve been on this thing for three whole minutes and I’ve only burned five calories? What’s the point!—and when people say this kind of thing I want to walk over to the treadmill where they’re shuffling along barely moving and push the speed up to infinity and crank the incline until they’re vertical and scream CALORIES DON’T FALL OFF LIKE DEAD SKIN CELLS, YOU NEED TO BURN THEM AND THAT MEANS SWEATING SO YOU BETTER RUN LIKE SATAN’S CHASING YOU, BITCH!)

I normally don’t mind any of that stuff. I don’t mind inane conversation (I’m actually a fan of discussions about totally irrelevant things*) or heated debates about calories or even being hit on by old guys. But today was different. Today I had a cookie on my desk and all the stupid crap I normally happily put up with got in the way of me getting to it.

I ate my lunch in the caf and I was still a little hungry so I scraped up my last change and bought myself a big beautiful chocolate chip cookie for later. I thought maybe after I let my lunch digest I could take a little break with my cookie and it would be sweet and delicious and I would be so happy. But by the time I got to my desk FOUR HOURS LATER my cookie was stale and it was time to go home.

*Like the conversation I just had with Eli about bats. We were outside in the backyard and there were bats flying all around. Eli wondered where they roost. I told him obviously they roost in caves like on TV and Lost Boys. Eli reminded me that there are no caves around here. I decided they must just roost in the trees then. Eli found that hard to believe because bats like to be sheltered when they sleep, not all out in the open exposed to sun and rain and birds. We concluded they must roost in an abandoned building. And then I came up with a thought so clever I couldn’t believe I didn’t have a joint in my hand: Expecting to find a bat in a tree during the day would be like an alien walking the streets at 2am wondering where are all the people?