Uncle! Uncle!

At what point do those of us who see ourselves as the helpers and the caretakers of society get to cry uncle? How much to bear is too much? Lately I find myself asking that question a lot, and apparently Karma has not been listening to my cries because I just seem to find more and more piled on top each time I yell. When do I get to say "I want to change jobs because this job is just not what I want to do with my life?" or "I'd like to move somewhere else because I just don't like where I live now," or something of that ilk without sounding like a whiny child?

I am not the type of person to share my personal tragedies in order to get attention or sympathy. That sort of thing ain't my bag...baby. Further, I find myself becoming annoyed with those who do...people who constantly have something wrong, who are never happy, and who want to share their misery with anyone around them that will listen (or is too polite to run away). I am of the opinion that everyone thinks as I do, and that at some point my troubles will become tiresome and morph into a ploy for attention if I talk about them too much, so my tendency is to shut it when I'm feeling stressed...until I can't do that anymore and I just lose it.

Today was a "lose it" day. Work has been hard lately. For the past three weeks or so we've only had a day or two where SOMEONE didn't become out of control on the unit and that wears on you physically and emotionally. I'm getting close to time for my long awaited vaction to Sandy Paws and my budget is totally out of control. The ex still hasn't turned in his financial statement to the lawyer so that we can get this divorce over and done with and in the books. But none of that is anything that anyone can really fix...in my mind it's just stuff to have to deal with for me.

The camel's back broke today when I went to pay my rent as I do every month on the 7th. Every month with the exception of about 2 months, that is. I go in person and hand in the check to make sure it gets there on time. On the 7th. Today when I handed her the check, the woman said, "Does it have the late fee included?" I asked her if today was the 8th and she said that it was the seventh which meant there was a late fee.

Nearly every month since September I've paid my rent in person on the 7th and this is the first time they've felt the need to tell me it is actually due on the 6th. I asked why that was and the girl at the desk pulled up my record. "They're all entered on the 6th. You must have brought them in on the 6th. We can waive your late fee THIS time."

Before I pulled out my check book to show her, the other woman says to me, "Just make it the 7th from now on," with a grin that bordered on patronizing. I must have been a glutton for punishment today because I asked them about my lease next, and if I wanted to find another place to live how much notice was needed prior to the last day on my lease? I told them that I was asking now because it's up in June and...

"No, you're down for a one year lease," the girl says, as she still has my apparently non-delinquent account still on her computer screen. I assure her that the lease was for 9 months and not a year. "Nope, right here it says one year." When she offers to get a copy of my lease agreement to prove to me I was wrong again, I let her. At least I got a little of my own back when she returned and told me that it was a 9 month lease.

Ugh. The thought of moving again is just almost unacceptable...but I can't afford where I live now and I'd like to not be with this company if possible. But again, I'm not complaining...I just need for the carousel to slow down a bit so I can hop off for a little while, both in my private and work lives. Instead, though, I guess I'll just hang on...