In between days

Well I've had a craptastic morning, I don't know about you.
Got home from a miserable morning at work and found that a friend of mine had sent me rather a long and upset e-mail at some point between midnight last night and lunchtime today.
I'm wondering if I was a little tactless come the end of my reply but sometimes I wish she was right here so I could shake her by the lapells and scream at her to stop thinking like she is, because it's not damned well true.
*sigh*
I'm wondering if she'd slept at all between this mail and the last time I spoke to her. I mean she'd already been up nearly 46 hours then. She'd have been pushing 3 and a half days by now. That can't be good for you, can it?
I worry about her... I worry about her a lot, especially right now because unless she's been yanking my chain in the cruelest way imagineable, she's really, really not well.
Mentally well, that is. And in all honesty, I don't know how to help her.
And when your friends start throwing into conversation that they're thinking about killing themselves, what the hell are you supposed to do then?
People train for years to deal with stuff like that. I don't know what I'm doing. I don't know if I make things better or worse. I don't even know if she listens to me.
In the end, I'm relieved that she talks to me because at least I know she's talking to someone... and at least this way I know how she is as opposed to sitting around and wondering, but I just wish she would get the help she needs.
Her once-in-a-blue-moon visits to her NHS psych to get more pills aren't doing jack, but finding a workable solution is not something I can do for her.
If she's losing the will to even keep on trying, then where in the hell is she going to be able to find the will to look for help?

Crazy beautiful

I cut myself on one of the newspaper bundles this morning. I think it must have been the Telegraph weekend magazine supliment... either way, my finger still hurts.
Spent the day ripping price tickets and getting whinged at by psycholady because I can't rememeber which aisle number is which.
Tell me to find something and I'll find it for you no problem. Ask me which aisle number it was and I'm fucked. I don't have a damned clue.
In retrospect, giving me 1700 price tickets to seperate and sort into "a and b" sides of each aisle then complaining when I didn't get them all right seems a little like an exercise in futility.
Sorting them into a and b I could manage because I have a mental image of where things are and remembering if its on the left or the right is pretty simple. Ask me if it was a or b of aisle 6, 7, 8 or 9 and I don't have a fucking clue unless someone give me a hint of the "well aisle 6 is the meat chiller..." variety.
Plus, psycholady is like the worst teacher ever. Telling me I have to use my Dsas number to print off the POS, and that I'll have to do that when I start on proper nights so don't forget, is like telling a totally blind person that blue is kind of like green but with less yellow in.
I have no idea what she's talking about... -_-;;
I'd ask but in all honesty I don't give a shit, and if you ask her questions she looks at you like you're a total fucking moron.
Then again, she's been working there for 25 years. I think she's forgotten that their computer system is not exactly blessed with a very user-friendly interface.
I need instructions like log in... select option 1 then select option 4 then select option 5 then select print tickets then press print.
Then press print again because it's stupid and asks you to do everything twice.

I'm suffering from the compulsion to play with the button that has the "NEVER turn this off!!" lable stuck over it.

It doesn't feel like Saturday today... I think it's cause I had to work and I normally get Saturdays off.
Plus it was just me and psycholady in today, and psycholady was extra special stressed and psycho because I honestly have no clue how to do ANYTHING so she had to do eeeverything...
And unlike the other lady who I usually work with, psycholady actually seems to care about what happens. It's disconcerting... she even skips breaks so she can be sure everything's finished.
She went to lunch before my shift was over so I skipped off 5 minutes early instead... MUWAHAHAHA

And there lies the limit of my rebellion... God that's sad.