Right now I am at work. Yes, I have a 9-5. 5:30, actually. (Does anyone know why Dolly sang about "9 to 5" rather than "8 to 5"? In the '80s, did lunch time not count as time off the clock? Or were there only 1/2 hour luncheons for 7.5 hour days? Which is what I have, actually, if I take an hour lunch. This is something I've contemplated way too much since entering the work force.)
I am a secretary. Secretary/office coordinator, which really means The Queen. Which I'm cut out for, 'cause that's what I always wanted to be. At work, being The Queen means I am in charge of:
1 - Office Supplies: storage, distribution, and ordering.
2 - Break Room Supplies: see Office Supplies.
3 - Scheduling of Meeting Rooms.
4 - Opening and Closing of the Main Doors: There's a fancy "Locked/Unlocked" switch under my desk. I'm the Queen Gate Keeper.
5 - Typing Up of Handwritten Edits: this entails fluency of Lawyer Hieroglyphics. I am proficient.
6 - Varied Other Secretarial Type Duties Which Are Not Very Interesting At All But Pay Well.
Somewhere between 6 yo and 6.5 yo is a good guess. Without the potty humor. I hate potty humor. But I love children's books. And Jane Austen. Maybe I'm between 6 yo and 16 yo. I definitely have the hormonal crazy thing going on. Maybe I'm between 6 yo and pre-menopause.
SpirituallyLent was a lazy time. Sure, I avoided the soda pop like I said I would, and the Starbucks (not for political reasons, just because I love going there every morning before work and giving it up was a sacrifice). Other than that, Lent was like every other time of year. Until Holy Saturday. Confession Time! My Confessor did not say anything particularly striking - nothing that I can quote. It was the Examination of Conscience that whacked me over the head. The Beatitudes. EVERY SINGLE ONE. I'd been playing the "I'm a good person" game way too long, avoiding discernment, avoiding really looking at how my actions/attitude/thoughts were affecting everyone around me, how I was expecting everyone to just accept and like me at all moments, no matter how lazy or passive-aggressive or pouty when I don't get my way. Make no mistake - my family does love me, even when I'm a complete brat. But they don't like Bratty Mitzi very much and definitely don't enjoy being around B.M. (Ha, ha! Didn't mean to set it up like that, but it makes sense. Bratty Mitzi is a Total Poop.) Something needed to change, and it was ME. How is it that I long for control over every single thing out of my control, but whine and pout and mope that "I can't control my actions! They're controlled by my emotions and YOU are not entertaining enough to put me in a happy mood so this is YOUR fault!" when in fact the only person I can control is myself? Not my emotions - my actions. The ups and downs will come no matter how close to God I am (see: Mother Theresa, Saint Therese de Lisieux, Saint John of the Cross, etc.), but I can control how I react. So I am girding up for the battle by easing slowly into personal daily prayer (not just night time prayers with the Littles). We'll see how well I accomplish that. As this is not my first attempt, I'm not fooled into thinking it will be easy or that I'll have a perfect record. Jesus got up again after falling.
Wow, this is a boring post. I'm going to put it up anyway because I can and this is only my second attempt and if I wait for every post to be fascinating and perfect nothing will ever get posted.
Coquades! (I'll explain that non-existent word in another post.)