No need to go knocking, drama finds ME

Yeesh. So after getting through the funeral and getting all hopped on on clomid-y goodness, I made my nothing-even-resembling-triumphant return to work today.

First person to say how sorry they are gets a mug full o' tears, lucky guy. Yep, that's right - three minutes into my workspace and I'm already blubbering like a lollipop-less toddler after a booster shot.

And the hits just keep on coming! In my line of work, you eat a lot of shit. You really do. The kind of job where you have to apologize even if what you're apologizing for had nothing to do with you. At all. But it's what you do and it makes everyone feel better and happy, happy, we all move on. So I have one of my shit ingesting moments first thing in the day via email if you can believe it just to make everything that much better. Awesome.

So I shuffle off into my boss' office to discuss it and as I enter, the phone rings and it's the person who I must eat shit for (for whom I must eat shit? Not sure of the proper grammar there - too tired). Fantastic. But then it finally gets better, because he tells her he's had time to think about it and re-read his emails and he now knows that it's not my fault. Thank-flippin-goodness.

And then I burst into tears. Again.

Have I mentioned that this time I do seem to have some side effects of the clomid? Uh, yeah. Total mood swings, hot flashes, tears at the drop of a hat...hopefully this means the junk is actually working!

A busy day flashed by - so much to do - but I did manage to leave a bit early to come home to Hubs. I got on the 4:10 train and I meet my man at 4:52. I worried about him all day long and was just so happy to be back with him to see how he was doing. And I think he was pretty happy to have me home.

We take a bit of a nap, then the phone rings off the hook. Sludge is wreaking her normal havoc, then my sister calls and tells me she's been puking all day and had to go see the doctor.

And then we watch as a series of red and white lights flash past our door.

Yes, drama has found me yet again. Or it at least knows what street I live on.

It seems that a gentleman three houses down was on his upper balcony doing god knows what and he fell over the edge. Onto his car. Unfreakin real.

Like all good suburban 'hoods, everyone flocks to their front porch to find out what's going on. Turns out our next door neighbour was outside as the guy took his tumble and he and another 'hoodie who happens to be a nurse went out to help him. Hubs just shook his head and said no more tragedy... Wowzers.

I found out later that he's going to be okay, thank goodness. I can sleep well knowing that, as strange as it sounds. Hard to believe I could lose sleep over a perfect stranger, but these days, sleep is that elusive commodity that's constantly being jeopardized, and yeah, a neighbour who plummets into his own car is cause for disturbance.

Fingers crossed for an uneventful Wednesday.

And that's your daily dash. How's your diva doin'?