Last night I had another dream about that loathsome editor. I can't tell you how many dreams I've had about her since I left that job (six months ago!), nor can I tell you why I continue to dream about her.

In the dream, I had somehow found my way into the office of the new Human Resources Manager of said editor's company and she was grilling me for details about the editor so that we could perform some kind of sting operation in order to bust her. I was really apprehensive about giving up this information but, at the same time, I was thrilled that someone was finally going to do something about her.

I mean, this is ridiculous. I only worked for the woman for TWO MONTHS. Two months, of my entire life, and she is able to infiltrate my dreams on multiple occasions. Mike is flabbergasted by how much I despise this woman. "She looks nice enough on t.v.," he said once, after we saw her on an entertainment show. I almost killed him but instead I resorted to a beer at two in the afternoon.

I guess, thinking about it, it's just that no one had ever treated me as rudely as she did. And I waitressed and bartended in New York City for 4 years - that's saying a lot. New York has some tough customers. It must have been the combination of her complete inadequacy as an editor and as a human being, and further, as a woman, paired with her complete lack of civility towards anyone who was not socially (this means Hollywood bullshit) on par with her.

Ah, well...I'm sure I'll get over it some day...Some day, I will have my revenge.

Anyway, getting back to my Dad...I finally had a conversation with his doctor yesterday and, after giving him an update on the last week, the doctor told me that he's lost all optimism that my Dad is going to get better. He says that I should get someone to come in here and help me because I will be unable to do this on my own for much longer, that he's seen people, literally, start going insane trying to do this.

I just don't know what to do. I feel like I'm waiting for someone else to come and deal with this. Like an adult, because I certainly don't feel like one yet. However, I suspect that one rarely feels like an adult when trying to care for a dying parent. I just need to get my shit together and realize that no one else is going to do this for me.
11:24:40 AM     comment []