So, to sum up: Gainfully employed, but still a fucking loon

Yesterday morning I was getting ready for work and getting the girl ready for the bus.  The husband had to be at work really early, so I was stumbling around trying to get stuff done alone.  Not that he helps much of his own volition, but if I find myself in a frenzy, I can yell at him to help me out.

I was also really, really tired. 

Partly because I've gotten up at ass o'clock lately but haven't gone to bed early enough to make up for it.  Partly because of PMS, which makes me extra sleepy. 

Now, when I don't get enough sleep, I tend to not do well.  Cranky, migraines, and the crazy starts to catch hold nice and tight.

Which is what happened this morning. 

I had planned out what I was going to wear.  In honor of getting a new, albeit temporary, job, I bought myself a new sweater for work [it's business casual!!]:

By the way, Izod's website is fucking retarded. Seriously.  Like they don't want you to buy their stupid ass clothes.  Idiots.

Anyway, I bought this cute sweater [except mine is purple with a gray argyle pattern] and was going to wear it today with my gray pants. 

And then, as I was putting it on, I thought, "Brand new sweater? You'll probably panic for no reason and not want to wear it." 

Stupid ass.

I put it on and told myself not to panic and then grabbed another sweater and set off on my hour long trek to work.

I got about 1/2 way there before the panic really set in and I had to change my sweater IMMEDIATELY.

So I pulled into a cul de sac of two GIGANTIC MANSION TYPE HOMES:

They both looked like this.  Well, maybe a tiny bit smaller.

Anyway, I'm pulled into this tiny cul de sac at about 7:40 in the morning, and I start pulling off my sweater and am sitting in my car, in my bra, in front of people's houses in the daylight, with traffic on the road behind me, trying to put my other sweater on.

Which I finally did.

And then spent the rest of the day berating myself for my crazy.

Also, because I am not only a nutcase, but also really competitive, I've been in a race [in my own mind] with how many hours I've worked compared to the people I'm working with.  Like, I have to work at least as long as they do, if not longer, and if they are working longer than I am, I LOSE AT LIFE.  Even though we're only allowed to work up to 40 hours, so it's not like we're getting paid to work more hours, but I feel as if I have to get to 40 hours FIRST. 

God, I just can't stop.

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Also, it's the last day to enter the Raw Photos Contest: Autumn Where You Live.  Are there people dressing in your driveway, shadowed in fall foliage?  Take a photo! We'd love to see it!