Crankiness beyond proportion

Remember that Siouxsie and the Banshees song that started with the clip about how more murders happen when it's a certain tempature? The magic number in the song is 92 degrees. Any hotter, and people are too sluggish, cooler and they're not maniacal. Well, I beg to differ. I think when it hovers around 97, 98 with heat indices into the 100s, we've reached fighting times.

Or maybe it's just the thing that happened this morning. I was fumbling for keys to let myself into my little office, and someone cornered me and talked 15 minutes about her project and concerns. I didn't tell her my dirty secret, which is that her project has as much importance to me as a gnat smudged on the windshield. I do, however, have issues with the project. It's amazing how much money people will throw away on grandly conceived, bad ideas rather than focusing on the solid basics. It's procrastination, except with money.

At the end of the conversation, she said "oh, I'm sorry to accost you first thing in the morning." No you're not, I thought. You think this is perfectly acceptable. We have lunch together once, and you think we're friends. This is why I sometimes hide from people, especially in the parking lot. Turns out some of my colleagues do the same.

This is one of numerous moments lately when I find myself trapped in very boring conversations with self-important people. I need a new exit strategy.

This weekend, I am going to clean my house and achieve deep relaxation, which may involve cloistering myself with several pizzas and a gallon of ice cream.