So I’m home, finally enjoying a full day off, checking my e-mail after also finally getting Ryde to take his morning nap. And I get a voicemail from the manager of one of our cleaning jobs. He’s called to tell me about how one of his tenants has complained about the fact that we were vacuuming her hallway at 8:30pm on Saturday night. After listening to his voicemail, I responded by e-mailing and explaining why we were there on a Saturday night, that the woman talked to Mark, that it was 8pm, and it’s getting harder and harder to find a time to clean all these properties because the noise of the vacuum is an inconvenience to everyone. Then I sent my e-mail.
Now, 10 minutes later, I’m really kicking myself. I shouldn’t have responded. I should have just listened to the voicemail and told Mark that we’ll have to clean earlier from now on. But I did respond. So hopefully, the manager hears my heart and understands my e-mail. I’m bugged thought for reacting and not thinking it through first. And I’m bugged that this seems to be a regular occurence for me now.
I used to be a non-reactive person; maybe even one that people would call passive. But somewhere, somehow, with age, I’ve become a reactor. My husband would whole-heartedly agree. I can’t seem to keep my mouth shut. I’m this little (well, not so little as I used to be), intense, highly reactive individual who has to have her say. It bugs me. I bug me. I was never, ever bothered by what people thought or by ever having to give my opinion. I was never worried about defending myself. And now the opposite is true . . . and you know who is awake. So this will have to continue later . . .