Will Someone Please Fucking Shoot Me Already?

We have a new operations manager (second in command) at work. I don't think she likes me much. On Monday she announced that some of the oscar tanks were dirty, which apparently means 'clean them now.' I would have cleaned them if I wasn't already swamped doing stuff like, I don't know, my fucking job. It's bad enough that I was opening birds, with extra instructions because of mites, but I was also working with Anne who doesn't get her shit done on Mondays because she takes fucking forever filling out paperwork.

On Wednesday, she asked me if I was going to clean them before our DM came in. I told her it was the next thing on my list, which it was, after I finished what I was working on (again, my fucking job). It's exactly what I did when I finished opening that morning - spot clean the first 142 tanks. Apparently, she didn't believe me.

She didn't say anything to me, though. She told Jonathan something to the effect that I have an attitude problem. That really pisses me off because I've worked there for a year longer than she has, and she has the balls to come in and badmouth me. I work my ass off at this job fixing shit other people fuck up and doing everyone else's work so they can slack off. I work up to 12 hour shifts because everyone in my department calls in sick. I take on extra days whenever people need me to. I do work that's not even on the list because I know it won't get done otherwise. I don't need some new bitch to come in and tell me I'm not doing my mother fucking job.

I spent the last 3 days at my mom's house trying to build her shed. The one that I put on a credit card. The one that she's going to put her shit in so I can have a fucking place to sleep when I move back in. She promised she'd have it cleared out by the time I needed to move stuff, but I guess she still doesn't keep her promises. Sheds generally need to be built somewhere flat and level. Our shed is built on neither, and it's no longer square. That makes the holes in the roof panels not line up. Awesome, now I have to go back again this week to fix the fucker and try to finish it before I move out next week.

I also still haven't told her about Jason and me. I don't know how to bring it up, and she stopped asking. I feel really horrible about lying and don't want to fucking hide it all the time. I want to be able to put up the picture of us he gave me for out anniversary. I want to not have to minimize my email when someone walks in the room. I want to just be happy as myself, but I don't know if I'm strong enough to.