101st post

I had hoped to have some momentous or reflective content for my 100th post, but instead I had to bitch about work.

I'll have to save it for post #102, as I'm gonna vent some more since I'm totally stressed out. With Rhonda preparing for school and both of us getting hammered by allergies (I barely made it home yesterday; I kept nodding off during the commute before I got home and promptly passed out for three hours), we picked a bad weekend to have people over. The place is still a mess (although less so than in previous weeks) and we don't have enough time to get it as ready as we'd like. Time to start making like Winston Wolf in Pulp Fiction and start hiding the evidence.

Rhonda also wants me to come help her set up the room, and while I sympathize with her plight, it's just difficult to do. I've got work, we've got a house to clean and food to buy, her school is pretty far away (and down 101, never good except in the middle of the day)...she's going to be upset, I feel guilty but also not in a position to help much, and the whole situation just sucks right now.

I need to go home. There's too much waiting for me to do there to continue griping.