It's been a hell of a weekend. I got almost all my work caught up. I have worked 70 hours since Thursday. I have done 560 minutes worth of phone sex in that time. Unfortunately, our pay period ends on Friday night/Saturday morning at midnight, so that time is split between 2 checks. Just on this pay period, in the last 48 hours, I've worked 44 of them and done 335 minutes of phone boning.
I'm not saying this to brag about my amazing phone prowess. *Rolls eyes* I'm just illustrating how exhausted I am.
I caught up all my blogs AND converted the dummy blogs over to Blogger. Of course, the import tool didn't work, so I had to copy and paste and appropriately date EVERY SINGLE MOTHERFUCKING POST. I put some affiliate links up on them. I fucked with my website. I did a whole bunch of other shit. I am thoroughly sick of sitting in front of the computer.
In addition to that, I also wrote TWO resumes for myself. One's a "regular" one, and the other is a skills-based one to use when applying for writing jobs. Unfortunately, I'm too tired to search for jobs at the moment, so they're kind of useless at the moment.
I also cooked two freaking meals a day all weekend because I'm apparently the only person of the people who were here all weekend that know how to do ANYTHING. I suddenly remember why I could never be a housewife. I'm of the mindset that if you're hungry, fucking fix you something. And if you can't do that, then fucking STARVE for all I fucking care. Just leave me alone, goddammit.
Sorry. I am feeling more than slightly underappreciated at the moment.
It's like...I work myself to death, and nobody cares. The only thing that matters is that I give and give and give, even if it's to my own detriment. I don't know why I accept it. Maybe I'm getting way more like my mother than I care to admit and think taking on the martyr role makes me look good. Or maybe, and more likely, I'm just too nice to say "no."
I don't like feeling undervalued and underappreciated. I guess that's why I like being with B. and J. They don't really make me feel like that.
And, as always, when I get stressed, my sexual fantasies turn dark. But, then, inexplicably, on the other hand, I want gentleness and tenderness.
I'm just a confused little girl, I think.