Oy Vey

I just spent my entire weekend working on various projects for the Association. And if El Presidente ever gets off her butt, I will likely be spending the rest of the day doing the same. And if I’m very lucky, her edits won’t cause me to yell loudly and vehemently at the computer like they did last month. Now, I admit that part of the problem is my self-professed addiction to procrastination but it is also the fault of tedious people who don’t understand what deadlines are.

I shared my Friday deadline with everyone via personal emails, group emails, text messages, phone calls, and even multiple reiterations at our board meeting on Tuesday. And yet I still got calls this morning asking if it was too late to squeeze something in. “Well,” I said silently, “Since today is Monday and the deadline was three days ago – I’m afraid that I’m going to have to call you an effing moron, buy you a calendar, and tell you that NO, you are NOT getting your article in my newsletter!” What actually happened was far more polite complete with sympathic sounds from me while I lay in bed answering this 8:15 a.m. phone call.

Then there are the people who called me on Saturday night asking to include their new advertisement in the current issue. I apologized politely, and told that they missed the deadline but I would be happy to include their ad next month. I then directed them to the Person they needed to speak with to ensure their advertising future. Said moronic Person then called me and asked if I could fit the ad in. No. She then emailed me to ask me the same thing. I realize that some people don’t learn until you yell at them but this was getting ridiculous.

The deadline drama came after my pulling a major hissy fit on El Presidente for trying to waste my time on a secondary project. She was then aided in her goal of pushing me over the edge when I received an email from an idiot telling me that the work I had done was incorrect. Not only was it NOT incorrect, I explained in an expletive-filled email, I was PMSing and the next time her old, talentless, busybody ass wanted to get in my face about things she didn’t know about – she should save herself the time and not go there! My email was not quite that evil but even Hubby thought the version that I hit “send” on was scary bitchy.

All of this kvetching is to explain why I can’t be bothered to share anything terribly witty or well written with you today. I’m sorry but I promise to try to amuse you later in the week when this newsletter nonsense is done for another month. God help me.