half-real worlds of paper and ink

I am mostly just flailing around, trying to figure out how is it that everything seems to be spinning out of control.

I feel like throwing things and slamming doors. I'm not. Instead I'm cleaning up the house and wondering whether I should mop the floor. I don't even know what it is I am angry about. The car, yes, sure; I'd definitely feel better if it gets fixed faster and I have an actual mode of transport instead of looking pathetic and asking people to pick me up and drop me off. (That's part of the problem, see -- I've never liked asking for help, even when I know I need to, even when I know it would be better if I did.)

There's work tomorrow. I'll get there fine. There are cabs, buses, trains, little sisters. (None of them particularly accessible, but hey, a girl has to make do.) There are friends who are unspeakably awesome who don't mind having me underfoot for a week (and apparently for a couple more days. arianur is a superhero). This is not a ridiculous place to live -- it's the office that's a ridiculous place to work. It's in the middle of nowhere and I live way too far from it.

Just thinking about work is making me go :|. Maybe it's the long break. Going back to checking pages and scrutinising sentences doesn't appeal much after staying home for a while and reading fic and watching unhealthy amounts of television.