I’ve been under so much pressure the last few weeks that I’ve felt like I’m about to pop like bubble wrap. Or a zit. Yes, definitely a zit. My exploding would be the opposite of a satisfying pop of air. It would be the disgusting SPLUT of a massive forehead zit that can only illicit an “Eeew.” You know, like what you’re doing now, having just read the last sentence. But I digress. Whatever. Point being, I’ve been under enough stress, I’m surprised I haven’t done this in the office:

I’ve kept my freakouts at a minimum and in private, because I just don’t have time for them. Here’s just a peek at the outside forces simultaneously pressing against my life:

• A major work deadline
• Construction at home
• Hausfrau duties at home
• Still dealing with headaches

The major work deadline has been conflicting with my hausfrau duties. I’ve been working longish, brain-numbing hours, and then go home and do my best to make sure Lindsey gets food and rest, because she’s dealing with some health issues. If I don’t start dinner or pick something up within moments of going home, I lose the ability to escape the gravitational pull of the couch.

Hampering my cooking ability is the fact that our pantry shelves are encased in plastic, and our dining room furniture, various breakable items, and random objects from our pantry are huddled together under plastic in the middle of the dining room while our contractor Ed plugs the massive holes in the wall created by The Great Plumbing Reroute That Tried to Bankrupt Us.

SPLUT!

To be honest, I think I’ve handled the pressure fairly well. Through the last month I’ve been more like a zombie (sans the messy brain eating thing) than an angry pimple waiting to erupt. Of course, that could just be the headache meds I’ve been taking which, apparently, are primarily prescribed as antidepressants. Well played, brain doctor. Well played. Luckily I’m stocked with enough Fuckitol to keep me relatively headache free, and agreeable through my next deadline and the impending purchase of The Great A/C Replacement That’s Trying To Bankrupt Us.

SPLUT!