Next thing you know, I'll get a combover too and wear huge gold chains around my neck

My head is going in about a thousand different directions tonight, so I'm not really sure where this post is heading. So you might want to pour yourself a good, stiff drink and settle in for a spell.

Yesterday was not exactly a banner day for me in general. The EPOD situation is really getting under my skin, and I think if it wasn't for FMLA he definitely would've had my shit in a cardboard box weeks ago. Normally I'm a pretty laid-back person when it comes to dealing with people - I tend to let most things roll right off my back, because life is just too short to worry about things you have no control over. Or at least that's what I try to fool myself into thinking.

Right now I'm in the unusual situation for feeling like I'm being pulled in so many directions that I'm spiraling out of control. Wife, mother, employee, daughter, sister, maid, cook, chauffeur, whatever hat I happen to be wearing at that particular moment - right now I'm not doing any of the above particularly well at all. Last night, while my poor husband was trapped on the toilet, I proceeded to stand in the bathroom door and rant and rave for twenty minutes about how I am feeling so out of control and how I don't know how to fix it. Nothing like a captive audience, huh?

The last three months have been so hard. I've been a really lucky person in that I've never experienced a lot of struggles that other people have had. And I guess that lucky streak finally wore out and karma came out and bit me straight on the ass. Hard. Yes, things are better. Yes, I think the worst of it is behind us (knock on wood). But this EPOD situation has me a little baffled. I've never worked for someone like him. Someone who tends to hold grudges and so far since I came in late yesterday has barely spoken two words to me since then. Not the most mature way to handle someone you're upset with, but I guess it's something I have to deal with.

Today I went into work with a great Bad Day shirt on and great hair determined not to let EPOD shit in my cornflakes. And I made it through the day. It wasn't that bad. Especially with that flask in my desk.

But part of me wonders - why am I putting up with this shit? Why do I continue to tolerate being treated like a naughty child? Or rather, why am I working for a bratty, petulant child?

I've been with my company for ten years. Several of the people who work there are my closest friends. I hate to give that up because of EPOD.

I have a college education. I am intelligent, well-spoken, and competent. So why can't I move past my fears of the unknown and find another job?

I was thinking a lot over Thanksgiving about a few issues that are going on in my life right now, one of the biggest being my work situation. I tried to remember the last time I had a job that I really, truly loved.

Back when I was in college, we had the option of doing internships for a semester for up to three credits. I interviewed with a few different companies and ended up getting a job as a research assistant at a law firm. It was seriously the best job I ever had - even if I didn't make a dime. It was a practice with one partner that did real estate law, and the other partner did personal injury/civil law. I got to work for both of them, and ate it up. I love, love, love to research things - that is truly a gift that I have thanks to my mom - and if I could find a job doing something like that, I think I'd be made in the shade. The summer after graduation had the worst job market in 20 years, so even though I applied to every major law firm in the city, I got zilch response and ended up in the construction business. If it hadn't been for that, who knows where I would've ended up?

So, not sure what I'm going to do. We've got to wait until January to find out how our business did financially for the first six months before I can make any moves in terms of switching jobs or thinking about going back to school. And if I do go back to school, I'm not sure if I'll go back for something completely different, get my masters' degree so I can teach, or maybe try law school. I love law, but not sure if I want to be an actual practicing attorney. And I don't really want to teach because I have horrid stage fright and hate speaking in front of people. How fucked up is that?

That's it in a nutshell. One week from today, I turn 37 years old and I am having a mid-life crisis. Next thing you know I'll get a boob job, dye my hair blonde, leave my husband, and move to Vegas. Oh, and marry a 20-something stud muffin that I meet at the craps tables. Got to make it worth my while, ya know?