When it rains, it pours....Thank you Captain Obvious!
As per usual, I am captaining the struggle bus this week. If it could go wrong, it did, and there was nothing else to do but throw my hands in the air, scream FUCK IT really loudly, and just keep moving.
I'm having serious anxiety this week about the English course I'm taking. With as much as I like to write, you'd think it would be easy. No, that is not the case. I have spent the last decade of my life writing professional emails, which are short and to the point. Avoid the use of unnecessary words. Leave the word "that" out because it's a filler word. Be professional. No slang. Blah Blah Blah.
I'm being forced to use my brain to think of the long way to describe something, whether it be a feeling evoked by an article, or just a simple summary. For instance, in my professional life, I would write " The author joined a scrabble team and found some friends". In English class, I wrote" The author moved to a new place for work without any social support network. She was invited to join a competitive scrabble team by a colleague, and found herself enamored with the thrill of the competition. She met a lot of new people, and developed some very strong bonds with fellow players". See what I did there? Both examples say the exact same thing, but one helps to meet the required word count. I'm really struggling with the different thought patterns required to read and write a critical response to an essay. Maybe because in my ancient history working in health care, critical meant something entirely different. I don't know.
The instructor seems fair, but if she takes any longer to post my feedback so I know what my mistakes are, I'm going to find out the last week of class I failed the fucking thing. Which I've dreamt about every night for the last two weeks. Because remembering writing the book report outline and panicking isn't quite enough drama and angst.
Work is going good though, for a nice change of pace. We are gearing up for a major campaign requiring the hiring of an additional 29 people, so I've been working on a staffing plan for these people. Making sure 40 people get 40 hours a week, and designing shifts to match the client need, plus allow for breaks and lunches and days off while still covering 7 days a week is not as easy as you'd think. That said, I managed to impress my very critical ( there is that word again) boss with the work I've done, so there is that.
I'm still puppysitting. They are driving me fucking crazy, and I love them desperately now. Even though I came home from work on Wednesday to find this time they truly did eat my 400 dollar glasses ( and yes, I know I'm stupid for paying that much, but I have really good vision insurance and it covered most of the cost), and shredded a book. A book that wasn't even mine, mind you.
I spent last night in the ER with the teenage manchild, who had his first ( and hopefully last) experience with kidney stones. My entire house smells like vomit, so of course, I'm adding to the smell. Yay for sympathy puking and CVS.
All in all, it's not the worst week I've ever had, but I am really ready for a vacation.
Friday, July 19, 2019
Tuesday, July 2, 2019
Suckers and stupidity, and a touch of crazy.
We all know I'm a sucker. That's not news. I get sucked into anything having to do with any person or animal in pain or lost or homeless. This time, I bit off way more than I can chew and believe me, I am regretting every fucking second of it.
About a month ago, a friend of mine posted on Facebook "Is anyone available to watch my dogs?". I messaged her to ask what was up, as she has three gorgeous dogs and a nice house the next little 'burb over, and why did she need someone to puppy sit? She tells me "Oh we bought a house a couple hours out but until the financing comes through we are stuck in this no pet temp rental!" ( do you see where this is going?! Open mouth, insert foot, and the whole damn leg). I said "Oh, I can watch them for you! I have a zoo already so what's three more dogs?" At the time, my kids were still home, and I had help. I was stupidly under the impression it would only be a couple of weeks.
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA
I'll tell you what it is. It's a lesson in fucking insanity, that's what. It's a lesson in "How do you get the dog shit off the brand new couch?" and "How do you get the piss smell out from under the laminate floors?" and "What the fuck are you eating now?!" as you chase after the puppy trailing diarrhea behind them like a kite. It's never having a full roll of not shredded toilet paper again, because they don't stay out of anything and are fucking ninja monkeys who get on your table and shelves.
It's having to hunt for the cats who are so aggravated with the dogs they'd rather be outside and never come back.
It's never leaving a box of cereal on the table again because these dogs have no fucking manners.
It's also having to tell your peanut that your friend's dog killed one of her rabbits.
Yes, you read that right. One of these dogs killed one of my kid's rabbit. The other one is now so sad and lonely he actually lets me hold and pet him, and Milo hates me. I can't fully blame the dog, as it's A) a puppy, and B) a dog with a strong hunting instinct. I blame myself for not recognizing this and making sure at bedtime the rabbits are safe and secure in their hutch with the door closed, rather than free roaming in the pen they can get out of. Thank goodness the guinea pigs are safe in their house!
My friend, of course, feels terrible, and is mortified at how naughty her dogs really are. She offered to buy us another bunny, even though it's not the same, and cried just as hard as I did. But see, when the dogs were with her, there was someone home with them all the time. This mama works full time, and my kids are gone all summer. I'm not home during the day. And when I am home? I'm still working. I'm in school full time (and still rocking a 4.0). So there's been a rough adjustment period. Two of the dogs are puppies, 3 months old, and not fully potty trained, and just like a toddler, when you change their environment, potty cues go out the window. It's a piss on everything free for all. Today I walked in the house and actually started retching. The cereal box incident occurred today, and was accompanied by explosive watery poops. Everywhere. Nothing was spared. I have been home from work for just about 3 hours now, and finally finished scrubbing the downstairs. I'm a little terrified to go upstairs and see what the rest of the house looks like.
She told me today it looks like they'll be in their house the first week of August. I'm not sure we'll survive that long.
About a month ago, a friend of mine posted on Facebook "Is anyone available to watch my dogs?". I messaged her to ask what was up, as she has three gorgeous dogs and a nice house the next little 'burb over, and why did she need someone to puppy sit? She tells me "Oh we bought a house a couple hours out but until the financing comes through we are stuck in this no pet temp rental!" ( do you see where this is going?! Open mouth, insert foot, and the whole damn leg). I said "Oh, I can watch them for you! I have a zoo already so what's three more dogs?" At the time, my kids were still home, and I had help. I was stupidly under the impression it would only be a couple of weeks.
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA
I'll tell you what it is. It's a lesson in fucking insanity, that's what. It's a lesson in "How do you get the dog shit off the brand new couch?" and "How do you get the piss smell out from under the laminate floors?" and "What the fuck are you eating now?!" as you chase after the puppy trailing diarrhea behind them like a kite. It's never having a full roll of not shredded toilet paper again, because they don't stay out of anything and are fucking ninja monkeys who get on your table and shelves.
It's having to hunt for the cats who are so aggravated with the dogs they'd rather be outside and never come back.
It's never leaving a box of cereal on the table again because these dogs have no fucking manners.
It's also having to tell your peanut that your friend's dog killed one of her rabbits.
Yes, you read that right. One of these dogs killed one of my kid's rabbit. The other one is now so sad and lonely he actually lets me hold and pet him, and Milo hates me. I can't fully blame the dog, as it's A) a puppy, and B) a dog with a strong hunting instinct. I blame myself for not recognizing this and making sure at bedtime the rabbits are safe and secure in their hutch with the door closed, rather than free roaming in the pen they can get out of. Thank goodness the guinea pigs are safe in their house!
My friend, of course, feels terrible, and is mortified at how naughty her dogs really are. She offered to buy us another bunny, even though it's not the same, and cried just as hard as I did. But see, when the dogs were with her, there was someone home with them all the time. This mama works full time, and my kids are gone all summer. I'm not home during the day. And when I am home? I'm still working. I'm in school full time (and still rocking a 4.0). So there's been a rough adjustment period. Two of the dogs are puppies, 3 months old, and not fully potty trained, and just like a toddler, when you change their environment, potty cues go out the window. It's a piss on everything free for all. Today I walked in the house and actually started retching. The cereal box incident occurred today, and was accompanied by explosive watery poops. Everywhere. Nothing was spared. I have been home from work for just about 3 hours now, and finally finished scrubbing the downstairs. I'm a little terrified to go upstairs and see what the rest of the house looks like.
She told me today it looks like they'll be in their house the first week of August. I'm not sure we'll survive that long.
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