Maintaining and maybe... getting better...
I really don't want to end up where I was before... sixty-five feet under a layer of depression and pure shit.
And, if I'm lucky, I won't.
But, I won't not go there on my own.
That much, I know.
In fact, getting up in the morning and going to bed at night is backwards to my true nature, but I can do it, if I have to.
So, I suppose the fact that I stayed up last night and watched "Ode to Billy Joe" (first time I've ever seen it and I don't get it) and didn't go to bed til it was light out ought not bother me. And, it doesn't, but.... Not wanting to even get up once I wake up...
Not keeping up with the house...
Not feeling like cooking...
Not even going to see Bo.... All that does bother me.
And, all that being the truth is what's scaring me, now. When I woke up today, I felt defeated simply because I was still alive again.
*sigh* Then, I come down here and... cool.
Nobody's in here.
Then, I sit down here at the pooter and... even cooler.
A note from Glen.
Then, I lose it anyway and talked to George, once he showed up, about Bo and getting him paid off before Mrs Boss takes him. I now know that will be done.
Bo will be paid off one way or another.
I will not lose him.
Thank George. Then, I wrote back to Glen and THIS TIME, I know not to wait with bated breath to hear back from him.
He is thee s-lo-w-e-s-t person when it comes to emailing and shit...
Then again, he is kinda busy, what with his job and all. He's in Bahrain now.
For a year.
Maybe now he'll have more freedom and be more relaxed about how he reacts when we talk.
He was scared that he was being too happy about it in front of the wrong people. y'okay Then, after talking to George and writing back to Glen, I sat here and read about Ruby Ridge again while I had a coupla hotdogs. Compared to what Randy Weaver got put through, my problems ain't shit. Besides the fact that there are kids in my house, my only "problem" is 2200 dollars.
That's not insurmountable. Not easy, either. But... do-able. And, if I can get it through my head that Bo ain't goin' anywhere, then my "problem" drops to 900 dollars. That's about how much I'll need to get the dental work done.
But... that's just cosmetic/vanity shit (except for the "being able to bite through food easily again, someday" part), in my opinion. In other words... my dental problems make me feel like shit, but, since it's just me, I don't care.
I mean, I do, but... then again, who gives a fuck, ya know? As long as they keep making superglue and polygrip, I'll survive. The house ain't so bad.,
Just needs it's regular maintenence.
I can do that. Then, there's dinner for five people.
I can do that, too. And, God knows, I've got all the time in the world now to hang with Bo... now that I don't hafta be scared to love him more every time I see him lest he be taken away by an angry 1300-dollar-deprived redheaded woman. So, intellectually, I know that the shit driving me bugfuck right now isn't permanant. The house will get done.
Dinner will get done.
Kids will go (tf) home.
Horse will stay.
Teeth will live, and...
Glen isn't gone again. I think, in light of all this and the fact that I still feel kinda blah, that maybe I'm getting PMS-y.
That would explain the rage from yesterday, though I will say, PMS or not, that Larry Shrock is a fuckin' jerkoff. A beagle murdering asshole. It would also explain the tears.
It would also explain the "my head feels like it weighs two tons and is pulling me down" shit. But, the cool thing is, even PMS isn't permanant.
(So, guys... any chick who blames her shit on PMS 365 days a year is lying. Take note of that.) And, I've been thinking, quite a lot, about that job...
Before she hired me, Lisa (is her name) said that, even though she wasn't worried about it, her husband insisted that she get references on me.
Mr & Mrs Boss never did answer the phone any of the times she called them, so I gave her Eric's bosses number and he gave me a glowing reccomendation. (Oh dear Lord... the little guy just came in here with the world's tiniest baby mouse in his hand. Said he "found" it out in the feed room. I proclaimed it adorable, thanked him for showing me, then told him it's really important that he try to find the tunnel or nest it came from and put it back so it's mom can take care of it, 'cause there's nothing we can do for one so tiny. I told him that, if it was out by itself, it's mom may have moved it out because it's sick or something, but, in case he just got lost, he needs to get the poor thing as close to "home" as he can so it has the best chance to live. And, now I'm dissolving into tears again because I can't help a tiny, hairless baby mouse... it's so tiny and cute and defenseless... God. I don't need to know these things...) Where was I and please forgive any typos, 'cause my vision is now doubling on me... Yes, Eric's boss.
Got the job, then lost it.
Was given a buncha mumbled half-excuses about why. I think it mighta been her husband again. When I got there Thursday, I was still literally shaking because of the reason the kids were coming.
It was obvious as hell that something was wrong and when she asked, I told her the truth.
If she then told him, I can see him saying to get me gone from there asap.
Especailly after he insisted on a reference. So, maybe that's what it was. Bit in the butt by the truth.
Again.
*siiigh* Whatever. So, where am I at, here? Unemployed for now... again.
This can be dealt with and will be.
House needs to be tweaked...
Will be done.
Dinner...
Can do.
Horse...
Safe.
Teeth...
Fuck it.
Kids...
Not mine, not staying forever.
Glen...
Back again.
PMS...
Sucks a wad. So, overall, I think I'll live.
Maybe I'll even want to again soon. Meanwhile, I guess I oughta go defrost something for dinner.
Then, tweak the house.
Then, survive til evrybody goes the hell to bed.
Then, maybe I'll bake a cake or something. Oh and, Chablis... what you said in your comment about the job post is exactly what I said to Lisa when she told me her (crappy) news.
And, I mightily refrained from saying it thusly: "Well, God doesn't SLAM A DOOR IN YER FACE, that he doesn't open a window somewhere", even though I really wanted to.
So, yeah... thank you for saying that.
I was hoping I had the right idea...
*smile* Peace, y'all...
Comments
1
You'll be okay :-) Losing a job, especially one that was obviously perfect for you, is never easy. Look at it this way though: if Lisa and her husband fired you for something that really had nothing to do with YOU, imagine what they'd be like if you make an honest-to-goodness mistake on the job.
THEY are the idiots here...it's my experience that lots of people say they "would LOVE to work with animals" but when it comes down to it, not many people stick with it when they realize how much actual WORK (and shit!) is involved and that it's not all fun and games. Good luck to them keeping anyone reliable.
THEY are the idiots here...it's my experience that lots of people say they "would LOVE to work with animals" but when it comes down to it, not many people stick with it when they realize how much actual WORK (and shit!) is involved and that it's not all fun and games. Good luck to them keeping anyone reliable.
Posted by: Chablis at June 17, 2006 05:55 PM (tMoUV)
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