Does all hell seem to unleash…

Work has been a beast ah, hell, I’ll come out and say it, bitch, this week. I’ve been on a crash course in paralegal/real estate title subjects this week with deeds of trust, restrictions, and releases the past three days. I knew it was coming, per the briefing with the Boss before she left last week, but a small pain in the butt has grown astronomically so – so much so even the Asst. City Attorney I was working with on it was cursing today. Damn, you know it’s bad when lawyers (prim, letter of the law, paper pushing ones, that is) swear.

The school stuff is crappy… I wrote a letter of epic proportion. I thought it was fair and balanced. I based it on what I knew from direct experiences, not hearsay. I thought it asked good questions that deserved answering – but apparently they were deemed rhetorical as all I got was this response:

Ms. Meyer,

Thank you for your comments. It is unfortunate for all parties involved, that some are based on misinformation.

We wish LMNOB and your family the best in future academic endeavors.

I’m done with them…not done with wanting that school to succeed though. A few tricks are up my sleeve. Truth will prevail.

Kids were brats for the daycare provider today. Punkinhead, particularly. His note saying, “PH had a hard time listening today,” made me think of the code. We are having trouble with sharing the spotlight with sister, me thinks. Still, knowing it is a transition doesn’t make the actual incidents any easier to deal with. Listen up, Boy!

Charlie Brown…well, he’s Charlie Brown. We’re in a down spot, and after a fugly spat last week, we’ve been holding steady in the “eh, ‘s-ok,” mode. He was back in top form tonight again, and I was not pleased. He hugged me and apologized, but truthfully, I think that is only because my bestest gal pal walked into tension you could cut with a knife, and he wanted to do damage control before I badmouthed him to her as we feigned exercise on a walk. Too late, oopsie! No, seriously, I love my hubs, I do – I just don’t know why most of the time, it seems.

School? Don’t ask. It’s not pretty. I emailed the prof and thus far have not gotten response. I may call my advisor tomorrow, just to see what he thinks I need to do. Uggh, I hate how that sounds.

Uhm, Superwoman has left the building?

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