It's rainy here. Dreary and cool but humid all day. I say "all day" like I've been up since the crack of dawn, when infact, I only got up at 6:30am to see if the Mao had eaten (she did) and to offer her more tasty vittles (she accepted). Then I was back to bed until nearly ten. Like I was saying, it's rainy. So here's what's been going on at the Chez Shit-hole, as we call the trailer:
I went to the arm doctor yesterday and a workman's comp rep came along. She was nice as can be and we all agreed that I should return to work next week, but only for 8hrs a day. This was a huge relief to me, because the thought of going back to work for possibly 10 or 12 hours a day, the thought of just throwing myself back into my physically stressful job full steam ahead, was sort of giving me the vapors. I don't talk about my job on here because, while I don't hate the actual job itself, I do hate the way the company treats everyone as if they're non-entities. But... I am extremely grateful to have a job. I know all too well the stress and utter fear of being out of work and losing everything. I also don't talk about my job because it has so little to do with who I actually am. When I'm at work, I work my ass off, because that's just how I was raised. I want to be able to hold my own and I don't ever want to feel like someone has to pick up the slack for me. In the past, I've worked with stoners and 20 year olds and chronic whiners and bitchers. They didn't make anyone's life any easier. Most definitely not their own. So when I'm working, my main priority is to do the best I can to make sure someone else's life is easier. Pass it on, man. That's my theory. I have lots of acquaintances at work. I'll talk and socialize with anyone and everyone. But I'm also very private. If you ask me something, I'll most likely tell you what you want to know. But I'm not big on volunteering information. That's what this blog's for. I know a few people at work read it. It's not hidden. It's on my FB profile and I'm FB friends with just about everyone at my job. Also, I'm really big on holding my own counsel. Usually, if I can just write something out, then I don't need to talk about it. I'm not saying this is healthy. I'm saying it like it is.
What the hell was my point? Oh yeah, I'm going back to work and I don't have to work more than 8 hours a day.
John started Hep C treatment this past week. Basically he feels like he's got the flu. This will go on for at least 24 weeks. Ain't nobody doing cartwheels anytime soon, is what I'm getting at.
I've been trying to find a moving company that isn't going to charge me a bazillion dollars and John and I are discussing the possiblilty of holding off on the move until he's more established in his treatment. We are as conflicted and stressed as can be. I want the good fairy to swoop in and make all our decisions and appointments for us and to generally be the adult in our lives for the next couple of months. Any takers? I'll walk your dog and babysit your younguns for you. I'll fix dinner for you. But it'll have to be at your house, cause we haven't had a working oven in over three weeks. Can't even bake a damn batch of gooey, chocolatey comfort brownies. This is no effin' way to live.
Good stuff: Bea's eating like never before. She seems like her normal Bea self. I'm not doing so good with the sticking a needle in her neck and hydrating her part of it. We attempted earlier and it ended with John getting punctured in the leg. I could stick people with needles all day long. Animals... I'd rather stub my toe. Or bark my shin on a coffee table than stick a needle in an animal. Plus, they're really furry and you can't see a damn thing.
Also, spell check wouldn't work for this post. I'm usually pretty anal about my spelling. Not so much with this long-winded litany.