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so sleep. ee.
Jun. 24th, 2005 10:59 pmUrgh. There is a foosh saga to tell, an entertaining foosh saga explaining how it is that our fooshie palace is no longer gender-segregated, but I was not present for any of it, sadly enough, and so I am rather too tired to tell it. I may make a stab in a moment. No, tomorrow.
For now, am deeply deeply weary. I do not have a day off until Tuesday. That will be my only day off until my parents show up. Depending on when they arrive I may not even get home from work until they're already here. So time is very short. And I am very tired.
My guts are, also, deeply unhappy. I would blame dinner last night, which consisted of leftovers from work-- things sent from the kitchen that were wrong, and so rather than finding a porter to take them back, we just kept them. (Usually we throw them out. But I stick 'em in to-go boxes and take them home to feed Dave, because it's, well, free, and I am not so rich yet to turn down free food.) But I can't blame dinner last night, because Dave ate precisely the same thing I did (we had two sandwiches, and cut them in half and each ate half of each one), and is absolutely fine. So I'm not food-poisoned. I just have guts with, to quote Nick Hornby, shit for brains.
So, my abdominal cramps are for no reason whatsoever. Lemme tell you, work was fun today. I did a lot of casual leaning on the bar and wondering, rather disinterestedly, whether I would explode.
Am horribly sleepy, but must share good things as well, and not discuss how very, very little I want to drag myself out of bed tomorrow morning to go open Torture Bar again, given that last week's 9:30-3:30 shift at Torture Bar was the least lucrative of any shift I've ever worked outside the Club.
Good things:
The sweet peas I planted before the last frost? A few sprouted, and I consolidated them all into two hanging baskets. Those have been sitting on the front porch since April now, pretty much, getting longer and bushier and sprindlier. I had just decided that the fuckers just weren't going to bloom, when I stepped out on the front porch tonight and noticed that one of them is, lo, blooming. Holy shit. So, am pleased.
Another good thing is, uh... I don't know. But I'm sure something else was good.
Muh. I'm going to bed now. Me and my mild abdominal cramping (actually it only bothers me if I eat or drink something, which I have done as though things were normal because last time I stopped eating it was dumb and I gained weight so I'm determined to eat like a normal person lest I get super-fat) have a hot date with a soft pillow.
Oh wait, right, the other good thing is that I looked at my pay stub (I get direct deposit now) and noticed that somehow, somewhere, somewhen in there, i got a raise of 25 cents an hour, and i don't know why. I now make (brace yourselves) $6.25 base rate.
Whoa! I know, I told you to brace yourselves.
But that's good, because as of next week they start deducting $16.75 a week for-- health insurance.
I'm tempted to go and get appointments with every kind of medical professional I can think of, but my co-pays are stupid high so I probably won't. But still. I could. For the first time since 2003, I will actually be entitled to a doctor's care. You could knock me over with a feather; the very thought uplifts me beyond telling.
For now, am deeply deeply weary. I do not have a day off until Tuesday. That will be my only day off until my parents show up. Depending on when they arrive I may not even get home from work until they're already here. So time is very short. And I am very tired.
My guts are, also, deeply unhappy. I would blame dinner last night, which consisted of leftovers from work-- things sent from the kitchen that were wrong, and so rather than finding a porter to take them back, we just kept them. (Usually we throw them out. But I stick 'em in to-go boxes and take them home to feed Dave, because it's, well, free, and I am not so rich yet to turn down free food.) But I can't blame dinner last night, because Dave ate precisely the same thing I did (we had two sandwiches, and cut them in half and each ate half of each one), and is absolutely fine. So I'm not food-poisoned. I just have guts with, to quote Nick Hornby, shit for brains.
So, my abdominal cramps are for no reason whatsoever. Lemme tell you, work was fun today. I did a lot of casual leaning on the bar and wondering, rather disinterestedly, whether I would explode.
Am horribly sleepy, but must share good things as well, and not discuss how very, very little I want to drag myself out of bed tomorrow morning to go open Torture Bar again, given that last week's 9:30-3:30 shift at Torture Bar was the least lucrative of any shift I've ever worked outside the Club.
Good things:
The sweet peas I planted before the last frost? A few sprouted, and I consolidated them all into two hanging baskets. Those have been sitting on the front porch since April now, pretty much, getting longer and bushier and sprindlier. I had just decided that the fuckers just weren't going to bloom, when I stepped out on the front porch tonight and noticed that one of them is, lo, blooming. Holy shit. So, am pleased.
Another good thing is, uh... I don't know. But I'm sure something else was good.
Muh. I'm going to bed now. Me and my mild abdominal cramping (actually it only bothers me if I eat or drink something, which I have done as though things were normal because last time I stopped eating it was dumb and I gained weight so I'm determined to eat like a normal person lest I get super-fat) have a hot date with a soft pillow.
Oh wait, right, the other good thing is that I looked at my pay stub (I get direct deposit now) and noticed that somehow, somewhere, somewhen in there, i got a raise of 25 cents an hour, and i don't know why. I now make (brace yourselves) $6.25 base rate.
Whoa! I know, I told you to brace yourselves.
But that's good, because as of next week they start deducting $16.75 a week for-- health insurance.
I'm tempted to go and get appointments with every kind of medical professional I can think of, but my co-pays are stupid high so I probably won't. But still. I could. For the first time since 2003, I will actually be entitled to a doctor's care. You could knock me over with a feather; the very thought uplifts me beyond telling.
