I looked up the spelling of this word yesterday for a completely different reason, and then came to the realization that this is exactly how I spent the summer.
Granted, I have spent the past five-plus months at The Tumbler in a smallish, unventilated room that is not air conditioned; sharing it with a large, heat-producing, fume-spewing, cranky-ass printer along with an overheated iMac.
Yes, I would sweat all day and usually around 3:00 in the afternoon was so exhausted that by the time I went home I was querulous. I wasn't pretty.
Plenty of people have worked in places that are not air conditioned. I'm certain plenty of people have had it MUCH worse. But, this described issue, along with many many more I won't go into (I wrote a hilarious, yet mean, job description for them to put in their next ad. I only shared it with one of the other designers.) made me think, "Hey! Life is fucking short. This isn't working for me."
Querulous. I didn't even know that's what I was.
One night I walked into the house and Pup bounded out from the office - so excited to have me home from the day's work.
"What's for supper dahline"?
I put my bags down and wanted to cry.
Instead I turned on him and screeched, "You eat four things! Pick one"!
Of course it's true that Pup only eats four things. No reason to be a beast. No reason to let my querulous ways explode on him.
I'm out just a few days from The Tumbler and the fresh air is so sweet! I'm happier than a clam. I have no idea what the hell that means, but I am.
I even made Pup one of the four things he eats for supper last night. Smooches my Pup. He was never querulous while I was going through all of this. He was simply supportive and when I decided I had had enough and had taken a different, not-so-fiscally-beneficial job, he didn't even blink. He just supported.
Love that man of mine. It's true, he only eats four things and that pisses me off from time to time, but he's my soft place to land and what could be more important than that?