This building needs yardarms, which, I am told, are those things on which mutineering and otherwise annoying sailors are hung for punishment. The yardarms can be used to hang sails, too; practical, I say.
The thing is, one of the employees was extremely rude to my mother. So rude that she admitted she hadn't ever heard some of the Klatchian and she had been teaching for 20+ years. She also refused to quote the diatribe. Said employee was just somewhat rude to me and then she stormed away saying that nobody will be telling her what to do (the memo that she was made the Director of the Universe must've missed me). Mom wanted me to fire her on the spot but the whole situation made me a trembling sobbing wreck.
Today, dad yelled at me, and I know he didn't mean it as badly as it sounded, but I feel shitty enough, well, he told me that I should finally learn to solve problems myself, that he's not going to do it for me and if I don't want to work, then I can just get out of here and there was some stomping and door banging (not me).
I really feel like wandering into the woods. Or jumping on the first long-distance bus that goes away from here, regardless of direction. Been telling BossParents that I'm not able to manage this place, that I don't have the capabilities and stuff, that I can't handle the daily contact with people. Just get over it, they say. Or It's not that bad, you need to tough it out. Or I wouldn't be able to live among these hillbillies without turning crazy, I don't understand how you manage.
The little nasty ssecret is that I'm not managing. I don't sleep, I eat badly, I keep constantly washing my hands because of all that hand shaking and other interaction with the damn bags of pathogens (also known as guests in the business) while I barely force myself to shower when I either stink or it itches.
And... it feels like my brain is going on an off uncontrollably. Or, rather, off and a little bit working, I keep forgetting things, I can't concentrate and I forget what's been said before the sentence is finished. (And then I'm crying and told to get over it. Hey, I'm getting over so many things that sometimes I can't take it any more.) And when it gets worse, I just stare blankly and struggle with every single line of a bill or something.