![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dragonlady7I am filled with the sort of glee that comes from ordering someone a perfectly ridiculously marvellous ridiculous gift. But I shall say no more on that. Save that no, it is not for Z, and I must have inspiration strike me soon as to what perfect thing to get him, because what I have so far is less than inspired, I think. Bah.
(Also, said gift was on sale, and so even with shipping it was super super cheap, and so I am filled with thrifty glee.)
I am pondering upon those I still have not shopped for. A great deal of concentration and work remains, just to put my regular gifts together into meaningful packages. This does not even address the question of the gift-wrapping competition for Z's family: I've no ideas, no inspiration, and am only comforted moderately by the fact that I have already purchased part of the actual gift that's meant to go inside. So. That's something. I guess. I'm doing better than I was at this time last year.
Katy said she couldn't think of anything to ask for, and maybe something I'd written would be nice. But... what, of all the things I've written, would be remotely suitable as a gift? She doesn't read fanfiction, and the only somewhat standaloneish things I've written that are enjoyable as completed are fanfiction.
I wish I had the concentration to write short stories. Especially if they were funny short stories. I'd bind up a little collection and give them to her. But I don't. I'm barely scraping through writing the easy and not particularly interesting bits of a novel, so, I think that's a little hopeless. K, you're getting booze like everyone else.
Today is, like yesterday, one of those lovely snowy stay-at-home-drinking-cocoa, reading magazines, snuggling in flannel sheets kind of days. And of course, just like yesterday, I must go to work instead. In fact, I must leave in about 45 minutes.
And it will be ridiculous, because not only is it the end of a super-long weekend, it is also a Bills home game, and it's a Bills home game against Carolina, and our airport offers a direct flight, in the evening, to Charlotte, which means that all the other team's fans will be coming through to fly out of gate 4 at 6:45 or so-- on that fucking Charlotte flight that is always delayed on Sundays and is THE BANE OF MY LIFE. (Yes, Gate 4 is right next to Torture Bar, where I work on Sundays.)
Work yesterday was the first time in almost a week that it hasn't been ridiculous and dead and I've been sent home early. I wasn't, last night, which is annoying, because I'd hoped to be. Oh well. I actually made money, which is unprecedented for a Saturday, but on the downside, I have a sore back and sore feet and sore legs, and we do not want to start a Sunday like that, because holy fuck, it's going to suck today.
Z will be home today for the fifth consecutive day, and words cannot express how goddamn jealous I am. I know I am a wuss, I know I barely work 40 hours a week, but let me say, I am the sort of person who requires extensive sojourns far from reality. I have not had more than two consecutive days off from work in almost a year now, except that one time I coincidentally got a three-day weekend. It is reaching the point where even though I sort of like my job, I hate it because I am tired of it. I have never lasted more than a year at a full-time job before, and it'll be a year this coming Tuesday, and I can't deal. I need at least seven days of Not Being At Work. To the point that I actually, wishfully daydream about falling down a flight of stairs and being unable to work for a convenient week or so. (Wouldn't it be sweet if I, like, sprained my ankle or something? No, it would not, but the thought is certainly there.)
Sigh.
Oh, and also, the dishwasher at Big Bar is broken, and I am having an awful, blistery eczema flare on my fingers from all the hand-washing I did yesterday. And that hurts a lot and also sucks tremendously. So we'll just pile that on top of things.
(Also, said gift was on sale, and so even with shipping it was super super cheap, and so I am filled with thrifty glee.)
I am pondering upon those I still have not shopped for. A great deal of concentration and work remains, just to put my regular gifts together into meaningful packages. This does not even address the question of the gift-wrapping competition for Z's family: I've no ideas, no inspiration, and am only comforted moderately by the fact that I have already purchased part of the actual gift that's meant to go inside. So. That's something. I guess. I'm doing better than I was at this time last year.
Katy said she couldn't think of anything to ask for, and maybe something I'd written would be nice. But... what, of all the things I've written, would be remotely suitable as a gift? She doesn't read fanfiction, and the only somewhat standaloneish things I've written that are enjoyable as completed are fanfiction.
I wish I had the concentration to write short stories. Especially if they were funny short stories. I'd bind up a little collection and give them to her. But I don't. I'm barely scraping through writing the easy and not particularly interesting bits of a novel, so, I think that's a little hopeless. K, you're getting booze like everyone else.
Today is, like yesterday, one of those lovely snowy stay-at-home-drinking-cocoa, reading magazines, snuggling in flannel sheets kind of days. And of course, just like yesterday, I must go to work instead. In fact, I must leave in about 45 minutes.
And it will be ridiculous, because not only is it the end of a super-long weekend, it is also a Bills home game, and it's a Bills home game against Carolina, and our airport offers a direct flight, in the evening, to Charlotte, which means that all the other team's fans will be coming through to fly out of gate 4 at 6:45 or so-- on that fucking Charlotte flight that is always delayed on Sundays and is THE BANE OF MY LIFE. (Yes, Gate 4 is right next to Torture Bar, where I work on Sundays.)
Work yesterday was the first time in almost a week that it hasn't been ridiculous and dead and I've been sent home early. I wasn't, last night, which is annoying, because I'd hoped to be. Oh well. I actually made money, which is unprecedented for a Saturday, but on the downside, I have a sore back and sore feet and sore legs, and we do not want to start a Sunday like that, because holy fuck, it's going to suck today.
Z will be home today for the fifth consecutive day, and words cannot express how goddamn jealous I am. I know I am a wuss, I know I barely work 40 hours a week, but let me say, I am the sort of person who requires extensive sojourns far from reality. I have not had more than two consecutive days off from work in almost a year now, except that one time I coincidentally got a three-day weekend. It is reaching the point where even though I sort of like my job, I hate it because I am tired of it. I have never lasted more than a year at a full-time job before, and it'll be a year this coming Tuesday, and I can't deal. I need at least seven days of Not Being At Work. To the point that I actually, wishfully daydream about falling down a flight of stairs and being unable to work for a convenient week or so. (Wouldn't it be sweet if I, like, sprained my ankle or something? No, it would not, but the thought is certainly there.)
Sigh.
Oh, and also, the dishwasher at Big Bar is broken, and I am having an awful, blistery eczema flare on my fingers from all the hand-washing I did yesterday. And that hurts a lot and also sucks tremendously. So we'll just pile that on top of things.
