![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dragonlady7It is only just after seven o'clock and I have been home from work for nearly three hours already.
Somebody at work, somebody who makes up the schedules, is being a complete tool of late, and put on so much extra staff it was ridiculous. In the meantime, it has been a slow week and today was no exception. So I did a reasonable business, but then the crowd died down completely, and then a second server showed up to take half the tables, and there was no one.
So I went home three hours early, because it was fucking ridiculous.
Suits me fine; it was sunny and seventy. I watered my wilting garden (which I hadn't watered because it was supposed to rain today. It's been supposed to rain for like two weeks. We haven't had any, except for a few droplets this morning to convince me to neglect the poor flowers. Stupid) and cleaned the back porch and we set up my old computer's speakers and the iPod dock out there and are currently playing Hecho En Cuba II loud enough for the backyard and my bedroom. (My window opens onto the sunporch.) It's lovely, really. Have also made some progress at at least assessing the other tasks that need finishing.
Haven't gotten much cleaning done. Got my flip-flops wet while watering and so removed them, and promptly stepped on a large and very lumpy rock, which badly bruised the sole of my foot. So, have it iced at the moment and am a tiny bit grumpy.
Alexander remains dangerously ill. He is pissed at the world and probably in pain, and moves little except once in a while gets mad and swims (with difficulty) around the little bowl, gasping at the surface and glowering at the fish in the other tank. He refuses to eat, and mostly sulks. The poor bastard. He's really quite swollen, looks like a little pine cone, and the Internet informs us that at this point the antibiotics can't do anything-- they can remove the cause, but the symptoms are bad enough by now that little can be done. The only measure that remains, once the course of antibiotics is done, is to put him in salt water, which will distress him severely but may ease the swelling enough for his tissues to recover. I am quite reluctant to do this, but if he's suffering anyway perhaps it's worth the risk: either it kills him or he recovers. It upsets me to see him like this-- well, I mean, he's always pissed at the world, but is usually takes quite a bit more pleasure in it. He is a right bastard, that fish. But it's really preoccupying me in the way that a $2 fish probably shouldn't. Selfishly, I wish he'd either die or get better so I can stop fretting, as there's little else I can do. I wish I could find out whether he's going to make it, so I could mercy him now if he's not, but I'm not really feeling that I could play God yet because I just don't know. Besides which I don't think I'd have the guts to actually do it. I'm more squeamish than a farm girl should be.
In my defense, it was never a working farm.
Mmm, bratwurst for dinner. Must go eat some. And not think about fishes for a little while.
Somebody at work, somebody who makes up the schedules, is being a complete tool of late, and put on so much extra staff it was ridiculous. In the meantime, it has been a slow week and today was no exception. So I did a reasonable business, but then the crowd died down completely, and then a second server showed up to take half the tables, and there was no one.
So I went home three hours early, because it was fucking ridiculous.
Suits me fine; it was sunny and seventy. I watered my wilting garden (which I hadn't watered because it was supposed to rain today. It's been supposed to rain for like two weeks. We haven't had any, except for a few droplets this morning to convince me to neglect the poor flowers. Stupid) and cleaned the back porch and we set up my old computer's speakers and the iPod dock out there and are currently playing Hecho En Cuba II loud enough for the backyard and my bedroom. (My window opens onto the sunporch.) It's lovely, really. Have also made some progress at at least assessing the other tasks that need finishing.
Haven't gotten much cleaning done. Got my flip-flops wet while watering and so removed them, and promptly stepped on a large and very lumpy rock, which badly bruised the sole of my foot. So, have it iced at the moment and am a tiny bit grumpy.
Alexander remains dangerously ill. He is pissed at the world and probably in pain, and moves little except once in a while gets mad and swims (with difficulty) around the little bowl, gasping at the surface and glowering at the fish in the other tank. He refuses to eat, and mostly sulks. The poor bastard. He's really quite swollen, looks like a little pine cone, and the Internet informs us that at this point the antibiotics can't do anything-- they can remove the cause, but the symptoms are bad enough by now that little can be done. The only measure that remains, once the course of antibiotics is done, is to put him in salt water, which will distress him severely but may ease the swelling enough for his tissues to recover. I am quite reluctant to do this, but if he's suffering anyway perhaps it's worth the risk: either it kills him or he recovers. It upsets me to see him like this-- well, I mean, he's always pissed at the world, but is usually takes quite a bit more pleasure in it. He is a right bastard, that fish. But it's really preoccupying me in the way that a $2 fish probably shouldn't. Selfishly, I wish he'd either die or get better so I can stop fretting, as there's little else I can do. I wish I could find out whether he's going to make it, so I could mercy him now if he's not, but I'm not really feeling that I could play God yet because I just don't know. Besides which I don't think I'd have the guts to actually do it. I'm more squeamish than a farm girl should be.
In my defense, it was never a working farm.
Mmm, bratwurst for dinner. Must go eat some. And not think about fishes for a little while.
