Not a peep

I have complaints! Many, many complaints! But every time I try to articulate them, I sound just like a former colleague who frequently inspired me to pray, "Lord, help me never to be like her!"

I'm trying not to be evil, but it's an effort. All this tongue-biting is painful, and I don't always have something soft nearby to kick. The disconnect between how I expected my career to be going and where it's actually going is keeping me awake way too many nights, and all that sleeplessness makes it even harder to maintain self-control during the day. So I grit my teeth and bite my tongue and vent only when it's safe, but here we are at the end of an exhausting week and all I want to do is scream. 

I need a diversion. Fortunately, there are some options. The sky is gray and spitting rain (and snow--in April?) so I won't be able to walk up the hill to look for wildflowers as I did yesterday afternoon, and tomorrow I need to do some house-cleaning to prepare for visiting grandkids. (Because when we moved my husband back home from the Jackson house, we dumped a bunch of things in the guest rooms and said we'd deal with them later. Well, later has arrived!) 

Today, though, I think I'll distract myself with a Peep Show. 

Relax--it's not that kind of Peep Show. Downtown businesses are creating sculptures and scenarios out of Peeps, the marshmallow candies that taste like foam insulation.  I missed last year's event, which included gardening Peeps, tropical-fish Peeps, and a Peeps pizza (Peepza).  And it's all dedicated to raising money for worthy causes. Who can complain while in the presence of charitable Peepzas?

Now all I have to do is keep my rage contained until 5 p.m., when the Peep Show starts. (Don't be evil don't be evil don't be evil...) Provoke me all you want--you won't hear a peep out of me.