Tuesday, July 21, 2009

Um, need sleep

In the last 48 hours, I've worked 37.

And slept 8, which is really the number to note.

Basically, this means I'm susceptible to crying over, well, pretty much anything and the smallest problem is pretty huge through my sleep-deprived eyes. I've been able to stave off such episodes while I'm doing what needs to be done but when the right moment comes and I'm actually able to STOP, that's when the emotion comes rushing in.

That event happened when I was about 10 minutes from home from my last 6 hours of work. All I wanted to do was get home.

But suddenly I was stopped (or at least slowed) in the middle of the road, reduced to 10 mph in a lonnnnngg line of traffic because the state highway department decided that today (of all days), this road (of all roads) needed its lines repainted at this time (time of all times) when I happened to be so close to bed.

Evil conspiracy, I tell you.

I'm sitting there, putt-putting away, stewing.

Stewing about the stupid highway department.
Stewing because the SHD didn't put up signs letting people know they were going to come to a screeching halt behind a 10 mph moving truck with a blinking sign that said WET PAINT.
Stewing because the SHD could've caused an accident.
Stewing because the SHD never puts up signs when they're doing work.

I tried to access the KY Department of Transportation's phone number on my Blackberry. The page was too large to load.


In the meantime, I sent Katie a text message:
"I got behind the WET PAINT truck"

Her reply?

Without any sympathy from even my sister, I really wanted to cry.

But instead I made it home (jerked my car off onto a side road and got home that way), came in the house, a little shaky from not having eaten anything all day and my nerves racked from weariness.

I may have told Katie hi but then mumbled something like, "I swear..." and got on the computer...

...accessed the department of transportation's website, the highway department, and dialed. Transferred to someone in charge of the project.

I proceeded to tell her, as kindly as I could at that moment, that I thought it was irresponsible of the department to hold up traffic for "seven miles" and come around one of those curves going 55 mph only to be slowed down by 10 mph traffic.

Furthermore, I informed her it was "stupid" for them to be repainting stripes "on a road that's about to be tore up anyway."

"Do you want me to take your number and have someone call you back?" she asked.
"No, just pass along the message that I think this is really dangerous," I said.

I hung up the phone. And felt so much better.

Then I collapsed in the hammock first and then later, bed!

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