This morning was a shocking reminder that it is possible...and even preferable to get out of bed before 6:00 a.m. if you want to A) arrive at work dressed, with makeup on, hair done, shoes and socks, and coffee in hand or B) lounge around and read the newspaper/Drudge Report/Fox News and be entertained on Twitter and Facebook. I happen to want to say yes to both. So, getting up at 5:00 a.m. actually allowed me to get to work at *gasp* 7:30. I know!
I had the first cup of coffee out of the pot one of the lenders made (the "good" one who makes the first pot every morning), and then went ahead and made a second pot so that I would not rip someone a new one at 8:27 a.m. when I came for my second cup and found a half inch in the pot...because I am prone to do that when under-caffeinated. It was pure bliss to not have to whine or mutter (loud enough for them to hear, of course) that some knuckle dragger was incapable of opening the little packet of Royal Cup into a filter and then pressing the button to make the water come in and make magic coffee. You know...like it is made for them EVERY morning by...well...MAGIC! Must be since they don't lift a hairy knuckle...
Anyway, I shut my door, put on Pati the iPod, and listened to Foo Fighters all morning. Because I was in a foul mood I thought it better to just hide behind my door. Other than one person coming in and seeing the headphones and thinking that was why I had my door shut...I had total privacy with loud rock music and the occasional text message. My idea of a perfect day.
I just wasn't really up to having someone come in and give me a hard time about college girls and all of the fun they have because it drives me nuts. This is one of their favorite office games...let's just talk about outrageous stuff and watch Karen squirm! We're so clever! I cannot...repeat...CANNOT...wait until their daughters are my daughter's age. But for funny people at work...today was just NOT the day. I might have taken office property and beaten one of them about the face with it.
I was extremely productive and was able to get out about three times the normal amount of work. This is a superhuman ability that comes in conjunction with a foul mood...and I know better than to waste it. I have cleaned my entire house in two hours when on one of these tears...and then I spend the next week screaming like a banshee for everyone who dares to leave an errant cup, shoe, or catalog in my version of House Beautiful. I can scrapbook a gazillion pages, catch up on my filing, clean out my pantry, and even vacuum out my car and not miss a beat. As long as my foul mood holds out...I am like Merry Maids, Martha Stewart and that model with an anger management problem...all rolled into one little bundle of productivity.
Productivity is certainly NOT for sissies. When I am in one of the rare, but appreciated (in retrospect...mind you) fits of productivity, I tend to do so much so quickly that people are wondering why I can't maintain that level all of the time. Well, because happy people find better things to do than grunt work. Grunt work is the kind of thing that you only do because you absolutely, positively have to do it or the Health Department is coming in or you have angst that needs to be tempered. I like being happy, so I do fight being cranky...but I do miss out on perfectly good productivity fits like the one I've enjoyed today.
This particular spasm came on this morning making it is relatively new. I do not know yet if if is a 24 hour thing...or if it is one of those 72 hour mega-ones that make me feel like Wonder Woman with serious PMS. I am going to try to do some of those things around here that have been just too totally not fun for me to even think about dealing with in my normal frame of mind. I mean...why waste a perfectly good foul mood?
So, while I am hoping that I am easier to live with tomorrow...not that anyone at work knew I was in a mood...I'm going to enjoy the productivity tonight. Hey, if it persists, I may actually catch up on the gazillion scrapbooking pages I am behind, the dust from the floor that Big Dave is finally fixing, and get to boxing up the crapola in my bedroom. Hey, you never know! Later!