Daydream Believer

I'm having a bit of a rough morning. It hit me on the way to work that the end of this month marks the tenth anniversary of my dad's car accident, and then my imagination started involuntarily going over what his last moments must have been like, which... yeah. Not a good place to go ever, let alone right before I have to get to work and put on a happy face for the day. It's left me feeling a little shakey, which, combined with the PMS (yes, still) which is already making me over-sensitive... well, it's probably a good day not to be in the vicinity of me.

I wish that I could say that I miss my dad, but let's not pull punches: he was too much of an asshole for that to be completely true. But I do miss aspects of him. I did love him, despite everything, and I still grieve that he's not here. I think that this time of year, around the time of his death, even if I'm not concious of it, just the physical memory of that grief causes me to be depressed and irritable and just plain sad. I guess last year I got a reprieve because I was too wrapped up in being newly in love for any of this to touch me, but this year it's getting to me. And I can't believe it's already been ten years.

***

On a lighter, if irritating, note, nobody told me that we're closed on MLK day. So here am I, at the office, when Marketing Gal comes in and informs me that I wasn't supposed to work today, and she's just here to wrap up a project. But since I'm already here, I'll go ahead and use the time to catch up on my work, and I'll take tomorrow off as usual. It's tempting to just go back home, or to hightail it over to Matt's, but it would sure be nice to come in Wednesday to an empty In box, so I'll stick around and try to make that happen. Le sigh.