the danish outpost
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bad mojo (not for the faint of stomach)

06.12.2001

feeling kinda how a girl feels

ohmilord, i feel like complete and utter shit. as in, really guilty sort of shitty. i got my lamps, and the mail room guy ended up going to the hospital for stitches and it's all my fault.

let's back up to the beginning of the story, shall we? i had this dream a few months ago that our office was pulled apart and the desks were all redone; it was a mess, and stuff went missing. it was a sneak attack by the builders. lo and behold, that's exactly what's been happening the last month. in the process, i've been moved from my cozy corner cube to one with nothing but fluorescent lights.

so that sucks right there. to add joy and hilarity to the mess, fluorescents give me migraines. so i got a doctor's note, and have been doing my level best to get some decent standard lighting for myself. took some effort, but i got two lamps ordered, little desk lamps with antiqued brass and wood stands and glass shades. this last part is key.

i haven't enjoyed the work it's taken to get the damn lamps, because i don't really like calling attention to myself and my problems. i should have kept that in mind today as i was trying to wedge the plug behind the desk, bowling over the lamp in the process.

yup. didn't even have the thing 15 minutes, and i've bolloxed it all up. had a crowd around my cube, and me being all snappy, as i'm wont to do when mortified. 'nothing to see here. move along, please.'

so i take the shards back to the mailroom, to pack them up and return them as 'broken on delivery' (probably won't work, but who knows). in order to fit it in the box, i have to unscrew a small pipe from the broken glass. i can't quite get it, and i ask the guy in the mailroom to help. 'but be careful, it's very sharp,' i said. 30 seconds later, there was blood all over the place.

he wouldn't let me check his finger, or help him, wouldn't let the receptionist check on him, just sat there bleeding and feeling queasy enough to pass out. somehow, i don't know how, the receptionist got him to go to the hospital. he's only going to need one stitch, thank god.

what is up with me? i'm some sort of bad luck charm for those around me. first i step on my best friend's puppy, now the mailroom guy gets hurt... which he said wasn't my fault, but i still feel responsible.

and now, of course, i don't dare touch the other lamp. as C said, it will probably jump out and bite me just out of revenge for its lost brother in arms. *eyes lamp suspicously*

plus, i was fine with the blood while it was all happening, which is surprising because i pass out when they take blood samples at the doctor's. but as soon as he'd gone to the hospital, the stress ebbed and i very nearly passed out. it's been a while since that happened. reminded me how accurate the term 'cold sweat' is. all the blood drains from your face and extremities, which renders you instantly cold, and in response to the shock, your body breaks out in a sweat as you stand there, your line of sight going all starry and sounds becoming a distant echo down the tunnel. so not only did i make a mess, create a spectacle of myself, and get someone hurt, i freaked out a few people who saw me staggering around white as a sheet.

not bad for an afternoon's work, eh? *grimace*

yesterday :: tomorrow

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