Tales from Redesign Hell

so a couple of weeks ago i was able to secure a sizable donation to redesign the common areas of my program.

before i go any further i'd like to say that the waiting room and break room of my clinic were painted the color of tweety bird's ass over four years ago and i've been aching for a friendlier color.

and don't even get me started and the seafoam and purple vinyl chairs....

but my boss... who was hired just over a year ago to oversee the grand operations of the agency... has cared about little else than redecorating every inch of our agency.

now i understand that asian art and updating the agency walls to a more friendly earth-tone trump the true concerns facing our hiv+ clientele. i mean...who cares about CD4 counts when you can slap some marble on that wilting formica counter top?

really...the nightmares brought on my sustiva pale in importance.

so the past two weeks i have been up to my eyeballs in paint swatches, trips to furniture stores in hopes of finding that perfect chair and end table... not to mention fucking carpet samples.

and i don't mind... to an extent. i just want the entire redesign headache done so she can move on to another program.

but the past two weeks i have been working my ass off trying to make sure everything is handled properly and without disruption to the operation of the program.

our clinic sees far too many patients to have the painters and carpet installers work between 8 and 5... so i've been charged with staying late to help situate the workers and then return later in the evening to turn all the lights off, lock up and arm the ADT.

last wednesday i had to stay until 8:30 that evening to make sure everything went smoothly for everyone. at one point i had the carpet installers, the painters and the cleaning crew in the building.

i had so many mexicans working for me i felt like a republican.

every other day it has meant staying until about 5:30 or 6:00 and then staying alert and at the ready so that i may return to the clinic each night at 10 to secure the premises and then schlep back the following morning bright and early to help re-situate the moved furniture and prepare for the day.

and the new chairs are being delivered on friday... my doctors' favorite couch in the break room was prematurely discarded which has caused much mashing of the hands... plus they really don't have anything to sit on because... oh - did i mention the new chairs were not being delivered until friday?

and this painting has to go, says one person... but must stay there, declares someone else...

and ms. grande prissy queen 1983 who sits on our board is livid over the handling of the carpet donation and installation and i guarantee you he won't be happy with the color we chose for the waiting room.

and i'm so fucking exhausted i'm half expecting to start seeing the little people in the shadows again like you do after being up for three days on meth... ya know what i mean...?

okay... maybe you don't.

i'm tired is all i'm saying. i feel like frankenstein. "sleep... good."

and i'm sorry... but when i have a half million dollar contract to close out, end-of-month billing to reconcile and a new round of federal quarterly reports staring me in the face... i don't give a rat's ass about wicker accents.

why can't i just sit back in my hovel and handle what i need to handle and let everyone else arrange the new baskets in the windows and decide if the silver tables with the black tops will look okay with the shade of blue that now covers the walls of my waiting room?

seriously... i'm not that kind of fag. i don't care.

i mean... i like pretty things. i want everything to look nice for my clients and staff. but really... who fucking cares?

all i know is...when this is all over... there's a bottle of pinot and a lovely blue pill that's waiting for me.

a beautiful, powder blue xanax... now that's a color i can give two shits about.

e.