Petulance

Item – My mother was in very good spirits yesterday, and the house was full of random male friends of my sisters, so no, we did not discuss lady-parts, borkedness thereof. I shall have to phone her. The good spirits and liveliness boded well, though. Whatever it was, it went. Fingers crossed. (My mother’s health makes me completely neurotic. She survived cancer twelve years ago, so, naturally, every time she feels the slightest bit run down or inexplicably pained, I freak. Quietly. At home. So as not to upset my mother).

Item – My insides are being an almighty pain too, eheu. I am still getting aches and cramps and sore bruisedness in the generally uterine area, and it’s CD13, FFS. This has been going on for the past four? five? cycles, and I Don’t Care For It. Also, the whole thing is screwing with my bladder, which declines to empty completely in one go these days. I keep having to go back 15 minutes later and, eh, continue. Nerve damage caused by severe pain (happens to ladies with endometriosis, you see)? Pressure of Cute Ute, now Enlarged Distorted Hideous Bloater Ute? Actual endometriosis on bladder (whyever not? Trifecta!)? Anyway, it’s a glorious recipe for a UTI (I don’t think I have a UTI. Yet), so I am drinking water by the gallon and popping cranberry pills, on the off-chance they work. Also, cursing the gods, swearing like a navvy, and trying to remember who the patron saint of bladders is*.

Item – I hate my job at the moment. More specifically, I hate:

  1. People who throw shrieking hysterical fits before ascertaining all the facts, ie, the first person they shrieked at knew nothing of the matter (that would be me) and the second person they shrieked at didn’t actually cock anything up at all and the Wrong End Of The Stick has been hastily and offensively grasped. The atmosphere, with a knife you could’ve sliced it.
  2. People who persist in having hysterics when they are gently corrected on the above and spend the next hour wailing about their back, teeth, rent, hair-cut, parents, and stress-levels, all of which are Caused By Beelzebub and Worse Than Everyone Else’s (I could do said person’s job under heavy bombardment while locked in an unlit disused lavatory with only a pencil stub and a loo-roll to keep stats on. Just saying).
  3. People who do the above in my office, next to my desk, when I’m trying to catalogue Victorian books on the history of medieval cookery. And then try to emotionally blackmail me into sorting the Ends of the Sticks out, because, you know, the stress.
  4. People like me being soft as effing marshmallows and doing just that despite the fact it makes them really late leaving the office. Talk about rewarding bad behaviour.
  5. People who sit on their hands moaning about the vast quantity of work that has suddenly come in, what with it being the beginning of exams, while everyone else frantically tries to to stop landslide of Stuff To Do from burying the help desk.
  6. People who tell me I’m making them do too much work, but see previous point.
  7. People who treat numerical and alphabetical order as optional extras when shelving.
  8. People who do the above and yet still get paid more than me.

Item – I am so bored of being grouchy. How does one stop?

*There isn’t one. Nor can I find one for menstrual problems. Infertility and miscarriage, yes (Catherine of Siena). Also, servants who break their master’s possessions, lost keys, procrastination, nettle rash and mice. Dysmenorrhea? You’re on your own, love.

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8 responses to “Petulance

  • wombattwo

    It’s St Peewee of, er, Washington. American you see, hence the name. There is also a patron saint of dysmenorrhoea, but she’s just known as St Ouchie of Oh Fuck This Hurts. Too busy swearing to tell anybody her name…
    If it helps, my lady parts are randomly hurting too. Not sure why that would help you but thought I’d mention it. Hope they all BEHAVE soon.
    Hope your mum is ok and hope your colleagues get a grip soon. Sounds like they need one.
    Also, sorry Americans, for my attempt at humour…

  • a

    Maybe a vacation will take care of the grouchy? Perhaps before you take the pencil stub and start aiming for the carotids?

    Hope all is well with your mom.

    And surely you could find a patron saint to fit your needs here:

    http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Patron_saints_of_ailments,_illness_and_dangers

  • katie

    They were probably too polite to mention it. Though there is the cloak incident (Matthew 9:20).

  • Hairy Farmer Family

    Ah, I get regular bladder funnies, also! Not UTIs, exactly (although recent consumption of asparagus has, once again, Caught Me Out) but the sensation that everything is not emptying the way it should. And then it empties – slightly – when it definitely shouldn’t.
    I wish I liked cranberry, but… yeuch. Double yeuch. Maximum yeuch.

    When one has had A Scare, one doesn’t leave it behind, seemingly. People are consequently permanently categorised into either Unstoppable or Frail, depending on past experience. I never ever bat an eyelid, however ill John is. Harry only has to pop a slight temperature, however, and The Dread is upon me.

    Down with all wrong-end-of-stick-graspers! You poor girl. Deserving of pseudo-work-hysteria, you are not.

  • Erica Douglas

    I learned from dooce.com to lean forward while peeing (like so your torso is nearly parallel to the ground, if possible) and that can help your bladder get all the way empty. It works, even if I feel like a moron doing it.

    • Laurel

      Yes, I read something similar about pooping [for lack of a more delicate term] recently–because we were made to squat and the toilet position is unnatural. That’s not to say that one should have these difficulties in the first place, but maybe it would help address the symptoms.

      I don’t think you can stop being grouchy when the context is unfavorable. Perhaps just have to wear it proudly.

  • Tulip

    Pee-pee things: Saint Liborius of Le Mans!

    Source: 12 years at a Catholic school. At a *Spanish* Catholic school, mind you.

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