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Oct. 8th, 2005 11:30 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dragonlady7Am so tired. Was talking to co-worker. "How many hours are you working today?" he asked. "Eight," I said, a mite dully, leaning on the bar: "just like every day." "Wow," he said. "How many days do you work a week?" "Five," I answered, "same as you." "Huh," he said. "So you do 40 hours a week?" "Yeah," I said. "Wow," he said. "I think I work thirty." He's been there a couple years now. He works almost all closing shifts. Closing shifts are sometimes as short as 3.5 hours.
Why am I so stupid? Why did I sign up for all 8-hour shifts? I only need 28 hours a week to get health insurance. Why am I working 40? Oh yeah, because all the 6- and 7-hour shifts available were in schedules that sucked, and the only way I can make any money is by working this schedule.
But it sucks. And I'm tired. And I can't work this many hours.
And no, I can't drop a day and just work 4 days a week (even though that would be 32 hours, plenty for insurance), because the company doesn't want anybody working 4-day schedules, because then it'll have to offer insurance to more people, which it claims it can't afford. (Sure.)
Sigh.
Got email from interviewee for article. Asked him why he was so into energy conservation. He started off with 'well grandpa survived the Depression and was frugal and I learned from him'-- the usual thing. Then goes on 'and I fought in the first Gulf War and saw all this destruction and war is so wasteful and if we saved just half the energy we could, we wouldn't need to fight over oil'.
Holy cow, dude.
I know, it sounds trivialized when I repeat it like that, but it's quite a powerful paragraph in the email. I emailed him back pretty much saying 'dude you just wrote my article.'
GOD I wish I had time to write this stupid article. But it's an hour and a half past my bedtime already-- I didn't get home until just over an hour ago; work went late and then we were with Z's mom with pizza and wings, and cats and dogs living together and two glasses of Merlot and my back only just stopped hurting. etc. Etc. *deep breaths* I have until Wednesday. I can do it. It's fine.
Z was productive today, at least. He has just installed us a new thermostat. We are not wusses in that we've turned the heat on before the first frost. It's just that we've got to calibrate and test the thermostat, and, well, that means the furnace has to be on. But we're not wusses.
It's just that the heat's on and it's not even mid-October. God I shame my upbringing. We never turned the heat on before Veterans' Day. And I'm not even wearing socks. I'm such a soft citified yuppie wastrel. *wails, gnashes teeth, doesn't turn heat off*
He's just been attempting to reverse-engineer the thermostat, sitting at the foot of my bed and gesticulating with a tiny screwdriver. Z in handyman mode is a thing to behold.
I am so tired I can't bring my train of thought back.
Z also bought a heater for the fish tank because it was 60 degrees in here this morning and bettas are tropical fish and prefer water around 75-85 degrees, and so they were in such a torpor they could barely stir themselves to hate him when he gave them food. He said that just means we should keep the house at 70 at all times, but me, being the sugar momma, I just said it meant we should get a tank heater. I think it's a case where more is less, really. ("But another heater is wasteful!" "Heating fifteen gallons fifteen degrees is cheaper than heating an entire house five, I would bet you.") Their tank is vaguely indicating that it's 72 in there, and Gibson was active enough to swim through his tube and stare at me, and then dart madly off through his tunnel into his other compartment when I bent to look at him. MaiTai did a full aggression display for the mirror when I held it up, and Al was, well, Al, and gave me the evil eye and followed my finger along the edge of the tank. So I think they're doing all right.
Poor Shirley, though. I miss the way she'd sort of hang head-downward and sideways, her little black eye following my finger with a malevolently confused gaze and her tail quirked slightly one direction or the other as she seemed to contemplate whether moving was necessary. But then she'd rocket off one way or another, and would often wind up hiding behind the yellow tin box of "Lucky Monkey" band-aids that was coincidentally set up against the edge of the tank. I'd seen her jump two inches out of the surface of the water, especially at feeding time, which was quite a feat given that her body was barely over an inch long. I just never figured she could jump six inches.
But Mai Tai's really enjoying having her spot in the tank, I guess. I replaced the Lucky Monkey band-aid box in its old spot, just in case he likes to hide behind it too.
Why am I so stupid? Why did I sign up for all 8-hour shifts? I only need 28 hours a week to get health insurance. Why am I working 40? Oh yeah, because all the 6- and 7-hour shifts available were in schedules that sucked, and the only way I can make any money is by working this schedule.
But it sucks. And I'm tired. And I can't work this many hours.
And no, I can't drop a day and just work 4 days a week (even though that would be 32 hours, plenty for insurance), because the company doesn't want anybody working 4-day schedules, because then it'll have to offer insurance to more people, which it claims it can't afford. (Sure.)
Sigh.
Got email from interviewee for article. Asked him why he was so into energy conservation. He started off with 'well grandpa survived the Depression and was frugal and I learned from him'-- the usual thing. Then goes on 'and I fought in the first Gulf War and saw all this destruction and war is so wasteful and if we saved just half the energy we could, we wouldn't need to fight over oil'.
Holy cow, dude.
I know, it sounds trivialized when I repeat it like that, but it's quite a powerful paragraph in the email. I emailed him back pretty much saying 'dude you just wrote my article.'
GOD I wish I had time to write this stupid article. But it's an hour and a half past my bedtime already-- I didn't get home until just over an hour ago; work went late and then we were with Z's mom with pizza and wings, and cats and dogs living together and two glasses of Merlot and my back only just stopped hurting. etc. Etc. *deep breaths* I have until Wednesday. I can do it. It's fine.
Z was productive today, at least. He has just installed us a new thermostat. We are not wusses in that we've turned the heat on before the first frost. It's just that we've got to calibrate and test the thermostat, and, well, that means the furnace has to be on. But we're not wusses.
It's just that the heat's on and it's not even mid-October. God I shame my upbringing. We never turned the heat on before Veterans' Day. And I'm not even wearing socks. I'm such a soft citified yuppie wastrel. *wails, gnashes teeth, doesn't turn heat off*
He's just been attempting to reverse-engineer the thermostat, sitting at the foot of my bed and gesticulating with a tiny screwdriver. Z in handyman mode is a thing to behold.
I am so tired I can't bring my train of thought back.
Z also bought a heater for the fish tank because it was 60 degrees in here this morning and bettas are tropical fish and prefer water around 75-85 degrees, and so they were in such a torpor they could barely stir themselves to hate him when he gave them food. He said that just means we should keep the house at 70 at all times, but me, being the sugar momma, I just said it meant we should get a tank heater. I think it's a case where more is less, really. ("But another heater is wasteful!" "Heating fifteen gallons fifteen degrees is cheaper than heating an entire house five, I would bet you.") Their tank is vaguely indicating that it's 72 in there, and Gibson was active enough to swim through his tube and stare at me, and then dart madly off through his tunnel into his other compartment when I bent to look at him. MaiTai did a full aggression display for the mirror when I held it up, and Al was, well, Al, and gave me the evil eye and followed my finger along the edge of the tank. So I think they're doing all right.
Poor Shirley, though. I miss the way she'd sort of hang head-downward and sideways, her little black eye following my finger with a malevolently confused gaze and her tail quirked slightly one direction or the other as she seemed to contemplate whether moving was necessary. But then she'd rocket off one way or another, and would often wind up hiding behind the yellow tin box of "Lucky Monkey" band-aids that was coincidentally set up against the edge of the tank. I'd seen her jump two inches out of the surface of the water, especially at feeding time, which was quite a feat given that her body was barely over an inch long. I just never figured she could jump six inches.
But Mai Tai's really enjoying having her spot in the tank, I guess. I replaced the Lucky Monkey band-aid box in its old spot, just in case he likes to hide behind it too.
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no subject
Date: 2005-10-09 04:58 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-10-09 01:17 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-10-09 01:49 pm (UTC)I predict that you're going to be sick on Tuesday. Just a feeling I have.
I want to come see the fooshie palace someday soon. Going to be putting in a tank myself in a few weeks, and I'd really like to see what Z did with yours.
no subject
Date: 2005-10-10 01:20 pm (UTC)Jeez, don't say that. :-0
I'm actually feeling much better today than I thought I would, so thank heavens for small mercies.
> fooshie palace
It's pretty plain, he just used plastic canvas (mesh) to separate it into different chambers so the fooshies don't eat each other. Social fish would just be bewildered by it, but it's essential for aggressive fish like bettas.
We've been thinking we ought to, maybe, decorate it or something, but we keep not getting around to it. ... Kind of like our house, which is also largely undecorated.
no subject
Date: 2005-10-10 02:34 pm (UTC)I didn't mean for you to take it seriously! I was just suggesting that maybe you deserve an extra day off.
no subject
Date: 2005-10-12 02:34 pm (UTC)I doubt it. We only get four sick days a year now. (And by "get" I mean "aren't fired for taking", not "are paid for". Hah!)