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[dragonlady7]

Ow! Fucking arm is still sore. Goddamn spider bite. I'm convinced that must be what it is. Red swollen itchy-painful patch still the size of a silver dollar (how many people have ever actually seen, much less possessed, a silver dollar anymore? I have three, stuffed into my miniature treasure chest full of odd currency. I have a bunch of pounds sterling in there too, as well as drachmas and kroner and lire and even, oddly, an Estonian kroon or two, despite never having been to Estonia). Bitches, it keeps hurting. Yesterday during work I kept finding excuses to pick up and carry multiple chilled bottles of something, and I would nestle one of them against my bicep and sort of sigh.
(Durr, maybe I should put an ice pack on it.)

On a mad whim last night I went over to e-bay, finally signed up (can you believe I, a child of the Internet age, have managed to survive until over halfway through 2005 without ever having had an ebay account?), and put a madcap bid of what I figured was the most I could afford on a new G4 iBook somebody was auctioning with no reserve. (I agonized for a while.) As of this morning I'm still the winning bid, but there's 11 hours left and the bidding is up to within $100 of my maximum bid. I'm not going to bid any higher, either. So, I won't get it, and all will be well; I couldn't really spare the $$ anyway.
Z keeps mocking me about what on earth I'd ever do with a laptop and I don't know why he still seems to think i don't really want one. I guess he thinks when I go on and on about how no matter where I set up my computer it's never where I really want to sit and so I can't get any work done, I don't really mean it. (I can't work with him in the room, I can't work when he's elsewhere, I can't work when it's nice and cool downstairs and stuffy-hot up here, I can't work when there's no power outlet near the table where I want to be, I can't yadda yadda. No matter how selective I am about where I set up the computer, I can pretty much count on having selected the wrong setting when I sit down do to some real work. Last night he had the lights on and I didn't like the atmosphere in the room, and so I did accounting work instead of writing. Had considered moving the computer down to the coffee table in the living room downstairs, but decided against it because it would be a huge hassle and also, bedtime by the time I got finished setting up. [And then in the morning I'd wish the computer was upstairs.] Etc.)
I've been wishing I had a laptop since 1997 or so, and have always, always bought a desktop instead out of a sense that you get more computer for your money. I'm finally to the point where I've wasted so much time not working simply because the computer wasn't in a place I wanted it to be, that I'm thinking I don't give a shit how much computer I get for my money as long as the fucking thing is portable.

Eh. At least I slept through the night. No dog interruptions: we set up her bed on the floor by the bed where we're sleeping and she zonked there until after I got up.

Today, and then tomorrow, and then I have a day off. A day off! Gods. But then, I have to work Monday. And then, I have two more days off. Why do I have to work Monday? I don't know. Schedule Man is insane. Following Tues and Weds, I don't have two days off in a row for the forseeable future. I just requested Fri&Sat the 12th&13th off from work so I could go visit my family-- cousins coming up from Queens, and Fifi could carpool with us after Syracuse, and there would be so much kin I don't even know what I'd do. I might explode from happiness.
But odds that Schedule Man would actually give me off the days I requested are... Slim. A particular co-worker asked off to be the best man in a wedding, and they didn't give it to him. Another co-worker, a longtime managers' favorite, asked off to take a vacation to Florida, and they gave her the week, except for one day. Yes. Right in the middle of ten consecutive days off, they gave her a shift.
And then had the balls to be astonished when she didn't show, despite the frantic note posted in the cash office begging other bartenders to please somebody anybody work that shift for her and she'd do anything. (Nobody could, or would.)
So my hoping to get to see my family in Troy is pretty fuckin' farfetched. And there you see the real downside of having family live not in town. I'll never see them for a holiday again, not as long as I work the job I have-- of that you can be sure. Even a plain old weekend is stretching it.

Sigh. That alone is motivation to go become somebody's secretary.

Comments

[jennnlee.livejournal.com]

That alone is motivation to go become somebody's secretary.

Heh. I've been there. One of the reasons I got out of theatre, and then retail, was because I wanted weekends and holidays off like a normal person. While I sometimes miss the theatre world, I've never really regretted it.

[dragonlady7.livejournal.com]

Amen. Ridiculous hours are getting, well, ridiculous.
And I was wondering, for a while, why the seniormost people all work monday-friday, when most of the money is to be made on Sundays, but I understand now. Then it didn't matter; Dave was free whenever. Now, if I don't get home as early as I can, he won't wait dinner for me and he won't wait up because he has to be at work, and that makes for a horrible evening.

[(Anonymous)]

If you just need the laptop to write, maybe you could get a really cheap, basic, used laptop that doesn't have internet or any frills. You might be able to get something off Craigslist or something for under $200.

[dragonlady7.livejournal.com]

I've assessed what I would require in a laptop, and I really need OS X (Panther), wireless Ethernet, and a reasonable amount of storage and memory in order for the thing to do what I want it to do. So a really cheap one won't do it. But yes, I am looking at used ones, as I said.