For those of you who do not work for a branch of the American government (give thanks), it will still not come as much of a surprise that all branches spend a lot of time and effort on really stupid things – like determining how much office space each person is due based upon rank. I am not kidding. There are specs on how much office space a person should have based solely on rank (seniority be hanged, it’s not as important apparently). At any rate,when you are a contracted employee (such as petit moi) you often get to negotiate your title as part of the contract.

“I should like to be titled Cornelia the Avenger.”

Yeah, I didn’t get that title, they were not to be convinced that “Cornelia the Avenger” was a perfectly suitable name and title to bestow upon me. Oh well.

Actually my title is boring and doesn’t reflect what I do, my position within the organization, or the fact that I do own a cape and can leap small trash bins in a single bound. Anyway…

Recently there has been some physical movement of various sections and that means some re-establishing of office space. Which brings me to the point where once again someone without a clue is trying to figure out the equivalent of my rank so as to determine how much office space I should or should not have.

Me:  “Let us simply say that I am of the rank of Grand Princess Ballerina and leave it at that.”

Government Drone:  “Why not go for Queen?”

Me:  “Because, my dear, Princess indicates a much younger and entirely more adorable personage. Let’s not overstate, I find Princess to be adequate.”

Government Drone:  “…and ballerina?”

Me:  “Will it be necessary to see my official Grand Princess Ballerina tutu? I can make a phone call.”

Government Drone:  “No, I think I have all the information that  I need.”

Me:  “Wait, wait… here let me put on my crown.”  (Presents tiara from lab table drawer)

Government Drone:  “ooooo-kkkkkayyyy. Thank you.”

Me, calling out after government drone who is now practically running down the hallway… “You can call the Chief to verify… do you have his cell number? No worries, I’ll have him call you!”

Ah, yeah, sometimes work can be fun.

This week knocked me down and then kicked me hard.

What can I say… it sucked bad. I’ve spent most of the week just sort of curled up on the couch. The TV is on but I can’t tell you what is playing. I either go without meals or eat my body weight in trash. I went to work and ending up doing paperwork in the parking lot in my car.

I cried… no, I sobbed when we realized that our beautiful sleeping dog was not sleeping but was gone. She was older, she had some health issues but we hadn’t even begun to think that the end was near. I was in shock. I wanted someone to realize that a mistake had been made and give me my dog back.

Then I got a call that my little niece was in the emergency. Emergency surgery on a 4 year old. Great. My real concern, and I can hear it from my sister, is the anesthesia. In my family, we don’t do well coming out from under anesthesia. Sad commentary on the overall health of my family that we have a trend in this area! I am happy to report, that my niece is home already and recuperating nicely. She’s a brave girl – that runs in the family too.

Then… yes, there is more… I get an email from my boss with an urgent issue that needs to be dealt with and I need to figure out how to get my pathetic self together enough to look like the professional that I (sometimes have to pretend) that I am and go in for a meeting. I somehow manage to wear two matching shoes and head to the office for a 5pm meeting.

I didn’t do much this week and I feel kind of bad about that. I made my Monday ballet class, the one before all hell let loose, but didn’t go after that. Carboy thought I should go because it might make me feel better. But I didn’t really want to feel better, I didn’t want lose myself this week. I wanted to really feel… I needed to feel this misery in order to process it. Some times, most of the time, when I need to “deal” with things I find ways to not feel it, to process the situation   intellectually but not emotionally. And usually that works for me really, really well. But not in this, not with my dog, my girl, my little friend. I will feel this loss from here on out and I needed to begin to learn how to feel that in order to really deal with it.

I got an email from my ballet teacher. It’s nice to be missed in class. I’m glad that I have ballet. I think that ballet has been my place to deal with things by not feeling them and just getting lost in counts of 8 and repetitive steps. It’s an interesting realization that I don’t really want to approach ballet class that way anymore. I want to learn to feel ballet. I need to learn how to feel in ballet class, not just count, not just follow, but to make ballet real by feeling in my heart and in my soul.