Confessions of a One-Track Mind

Today was a mixed bag. The highlights were a dad buying a bunch of Trendicrap stuff for his daughter---he put her on the phone to tell me what she wanted, then he gave me the credit card info and added a couple more items. (That would've been cooler if I hadn't been getting a weird "Lolita" vibe...probably my imagination, but you never know.) Then I wrapped up the evening by selling TWO LeSnobbi bags to a caller, $517, thank you very much!

The pits was finding out that contrary to reasonable expectation, I've been scheduled for Memorial Day. (I was told by someone in Scheduling last week that due to my seniority, I could *expect* Memorial Day off.) Am highly perturbed. Because a) it's my regular day off, b) I have mondo seniority, and c) I HAVE PLANS. HulaGirl may take it for me---she's having to move and needs all the extra cash she can get for deposits and the like. We'll see what happens.

Tomorrow, Kat's mom returns from Oklahoma. (Kat's not happy about it, because G'ma's 90-something and Not All There. Kat's under enough stress without that, but apparently G'ma's driving everyone in OK nuts.) I promised to go to the airport with her---she needs someone to watch the van while she runs in to collect G'ma. It'll take a big chuck out of my day, but she'd do the same for me.

Can't think of anything else right now...good night.

Today after work, I went grocery shopping. Didn't get *everything* I need/want, but I had lemon pepper chicken for dinner, and it was *wonderful*.

There is an individual who has just departed our NY office, which is good for her, since I'm ready to go up there and beat her to a jelly. She sent a whole stack of poorly-worked accounts to collections, and the fuckers are all calling me. Er, us. Anyway, it's been an evil week so far, and I'm hanging on by my toenails. This too shall pass....

However, the cooking I did over the weekend has been a Good Thing. Had lunch yesterday and today--just had to snag the containers out of the fridge. Tomorrow, I'm going to fire up the crockpot--I got some lamb neck for stew. (I adore lamb. Possibly as much as I adore salmon. Yum.) Meanwhile, I have leftover chicken for tomorrow, so I'm set...

On the weekends, I allow myself to stay up late. "Late" being a relative term--now that I've reached middle-age, "late" is any time past 11 pm. I remember when that was the shank of the evening.

We nearly had a full-scale mutiny in the Friday meeting this morning. I'm not the only one who's pissed at having to do twice as much work as they signed on to do. In addition to the usual bitches bitching, a few people who don't usually, did. The phones were comparatively quiet today; I dug into the correspondence and am not as far behind as usual--and someone offered to help me with one of the things that was getting really piled up--I owe her, big time.

Lunch with Kat went well--we hit China Garden, and it was the first time in ages that I've been in there when it wasn't a lunch run--I really enjoyed it. She's looking at a house with serious intent--much closer than where she is now--I *could* conceivably walk there; it's only about a mile. (Would be half that if there was a path through the woods at the end of the street....) Good exercise.

Had a chat with AI this evening about The Book. She suggests I keep the ideas in some format that can easily be rearranged, such as 3x5 index cards. I don't happen to have any spare cash for same, but I'm certain I've got a smallish loose-leaf notebook (recycled planner!) somewhere. I just need to locate it. And I know I have a hole-punch somewhere in here...it may not be ideal, but it will serve for the interim.

=

One down, four to go. Isn't that a helluva way to have to live one's life? I could, theoretically step off the merry-go-round...and then what? I'm not sure that there's any such thing as the "perfect" job. There's always something about a job that's less than satisfactory: the pay is shit, the hours stink, the commute sucks, the coworkers are assholes or the working conditions bite. It's a given. ( Read more... )

Right now, the property taxes are the only thing that keep me from saying, Oh, fuck it! and just walking out. Or pitching a royal hissy fit--the effort of NOT pitching said fit has me constantly tense. I've been chided about talking to myself--Hello! I live alone, I'm used to talking to myself!--which they don't seem to comprehend either. So it seems like I'm white-knuckled all the time, trying to rein in my feelings and not start telling people what I think of them. I don't *want* to end up fired, banned from ever walking in the door again--for all my grumping, this has actually been one of the better jobs I've had. I'm just really burned out, and if this other position doesn't come through--!

I owe people e-mails, but tonight, I'm just too tired. Sorry, love. Maybe I'll feel better in the morning.

And...today it all went to shit at 8:40 AM, when I was told to move out of my nice, big cubical with a view into a nasty little space one-third the size.

I'm not surprised; I had a premonition it might be coming, but a little real-world advance fucking notice would have been nice. I spent most of the morning lugging things to my new desk and out to my car and muttering quietly to myself. I'm going to be hunting for things for a month, at least, if I don't run completely amok. (Turning around and slapping the crap out of the individual who complained about my fan freezing her ass off may get me into trouble yet. Put on a jacket, bitch, and don't give me any crap, I am in NO MOOD.)

My lower back is killing me; I'm not sure if I did something while I was hauling things around, or if it's stress, or what. Otherwise, I'd be over at K's this evening, consuming quantities of chocolate and relaxing. Instead, I'm considering the merits of crawling into bed at 9PM and staying there for 10 hours.

Life is sucking right now.

I've acquired the glasses--I think the rectangular ones are going to be my preferred pair. There's something about the other ones...they're definitely going to take some getting used to, and I *don't* plan to drive in them. (It's some peculiar combination of the pointy-at-the-sides shape and the lack of a bottom rim...I'm very conscious of wearing glasses, and usually I'm *not*.)

I would have faxed the receipt off to the FSA people, except that one of our intrepid phone trio wasn't in today, and the other one split for the day at lunchtime. Which as any mathematical genius can tell you, left me and only me to deal with the phones. Why is it that when I wasn't on the phones, and things got busy, they started shrieking for back-up, and now that I'm back on the god-damned phones, nobody says a fucking thing? (Inhale, exhale....)

Anyway, I'm very glad it's Friday and I've got two days to decompress. Laundry is happening (No, I didn't do it last night: I took a long shower and washed my hair and exfoliated), I've got a package of new tee shirts to dye, two shades of dye, turquoise and purple--and that stuff I tried making from rose petals, which has been sitting in a jug awaiting experimentation for lo these many years. *tries to remember what year...* Since 2001, I think. (Possibly I'll uncork the jug, and we'll all run screaming from the smell, we'll see!)

Speaking of stinkers, I invoke the law of threefold return on the uber-bozo who was *parked!* in the right-hand lane of 520 at 7:50AM in the middle of rush hour traffic. I thought the Hyundai behind me was going to wind up in my backseat and I saw my life flash in before my eyes. Oh, and then I got tailed by a sheriff's deputy on the way home; he followed me into our little no-outlet subdivision and all the way home...then he drove merrily past as I was parking. Which was good for a nice dose of paranoia which will work itself into the current CSC*...I'm not invoking anything on the deputy--it's isn't hir fault that I led a misspent youth!

I'm going to sleep in tomorrow. I deserve it. *yawn* Right now, I'm mostly staying up so I can hang up the laundry when it's dry...I don't want it to sit there all night and get wrinkles...I'm wrinkled enough....blah!


* Crack-smoking crossover.