I’ve worked alone for many years. I did well. Then I burned out and quit.
I got intercepted by the people upstairs. No, don’t quit, we need you. Why don’t we put you in a different position? It’s one step down, there’s a pay cut, we’ll make it a symbolic $3/day and you won’t fucking hate your entire life every fucking day you show up for work. And hey, to be fair, I fucking LOVED coming in to work after that. I came in an hour later, went home 3-5 hours earlier, rarely broke a sweat, and although I wasn’t too sure about having a partner he turned out to be pretty cool and he got us free lunch from different places almost every day. I was getting home early in a good mood and getting more quality time with the kids and more “quality time” with the wife and its only costing me $3/day?!! It was great. For TWO WEEKS.
Then “hey, yeah, that position, yeah. You can’t, see, we want to have that as an intermediary step for some other people, like a training job, so we want to put you on this other position.” And it fucking sucks. Bad. And I have a partner, but he’s not awesome. He’s kinda anti-awesome. He’s a lot like the kind of knowitall dicks on SDMB but I can’t just close the window and ignore him, he’s there all the fucking time. And what I do now is different than what I did before, so I should be the junior assistant half-member of the team, but I’ve been on for two weeks and I’m fucking CARRYING his ass.
So yeah. People upstairs? I see what you did there. Dicks.
Heh. I don’t watch TV. However, we have three TVs in this house, and two of them are considered mine. One is hooked up to my PS2, and the other one is hooked up to my XBox 360 and my NES/SNES console. Theoretically, I could watch TV programs on them, but if I turn one of them on, it seems that my hand automatically gravitates to the “on” switch on the console, too.
I did watch some TV last month, though! I don’t have a laptop or tablet (yet) and I had to be out of town, so I watched some TV.
Nah, they simply can’t remember. One of the Machus Hispanicus I work with doesn’t like soccer; he’s been buddies with Boss for over ten years (they were at each other’s weddings); but every Monday and sometimes mid-week he has to explain again that he doesn’t like soccer. It’s one of those cases where being outside the norm turns you into an extradimensional alien.
My internet’s not working either, which they also know. :rolleyes: Some of us actually unplug from the world once in a while. Horribly twentieth-century of me, I know. I shall not strive to do better.
My husband was taking the trash out this morning and noticed icicles coming out of our freeze-proof faucet. The plumber is coming out later this morning. Better now than Christmas day, I guess.
Well, I had Christmas all planned - no work, my wife in NZ, my UK based daughter visiting her boyfriends family elsewhere. Christmas dinner with my wifes brother and family.
The rest of the week was on my own with the XBox and DVDs and TV. All good.
Now the boyfriends mother has slipped a disc and is laid up, and I get to host the two of them. I don’t mind, but I won’t be quite as relaxed or free to do what I want.
My son died four years ago today. That’s not my mini-rant.
My min-rant is the expectation of public grief that some people have - honestly, the same “friend” texted me this morning to say she was thinking of me (and got no response because I was at work). So then she stepped it up and posted glurge to my facebook wall. And commented on my mums melodramatic “we’ll get through the day somehow!!!” post. And then commented on my token “No, I’ve not forgotten, here’s your public acknowledgement” fb post.
Yes, I got through the day. It might be an anniversary, but it was also four years ago, and time doesn’t stand still. I’ve still got work to go to, a two year old to look after, dinner to make, the holidays to pack for, presents to wrap, snark to post - life has gone on. I’m not going to sit here and weep and wail and publicly grieve just to fulfill whatever voyeuristic need you.
I don’t mourn by a calendar’s schedule. Fuck off and stop expecting me to.
Sheesh. It sounds like you’re healthier than your friend.
Even if you are still grieving, I don’t think that you are obliged to grieve publicly. This isn’t the Victorian era, when you have to wear certain colors according to how long it’s been.
Yah but think of it this way: on the other side you get to be just like a MAN! No worries about what TOTM it is - you can wear white pants any damn day! Sex without consequences! Chin hairs! No more packing your purse (or your orifice) full of Tampax! Older men and older women just sorta resemble each other as time marches on, it occurs to me.
Right now I’m afraid to leave the house, I should have bought stock in Tampax, I’m sleeping on a stack of old towels and I’m getting up every few hours at night. I can’t go anywhere, pick up anything that weighs more than a few pounds, or sit on upholstered furniture. I went to a small store today and was in there for only about 10 minutes and I thought I was going to faint.
I’m 55 years old, too old to be putting up with this shit.
Has the thought of hysterectomy ever crossed your mind?
Do you have any objections to medication to ameliorate the bleeding?
Sahirrnee, Life is too short to be a slave to your body’s (dys)functions. Most women say that hysterectomy for DUB (dysfunctional uterine bleeding aka menopause) was the best thing theyve ever done since losing their virginity! Not pushing the idea if you have objections, just sayin.
Disclaimer: I am not a/your doctor. Sound medical advice would be the first step.
So… fine art galleries in the area mostly carry landscapes, flowers, and pretty animals. Because these things sell. It pisses me off, mildly, because I turn out work of higher quality than 80% of the stuff found there, and the work is deemed unsellable because of our conservative, retiree-filled area. One of these days, people are going to realize that fantastical, narrative paintings are a helluvalot more interesting than a pot of daisies. (Ironically, one of the galleries here also carries Charles Vess originals. They are narrative/figurative. And they don’t sell, either.)
Since I go through this only about two times a year I’ve just been dealing with it, hoping it will stop. This time is so bad though I am really considering going to the doctor.
Usually it’s only for a few days, this has been going on for over a week.
I don’t want any kind of surgery if I can help it.
While still a procedure performed within your Netherlands, an endometrial ablation is not surgery and could give you permanent to semi-permanent relief. Plus, frikkin’ lasers.
Theoretically, I could watch TV programs on them, but if I turn one of them on, it seems that my hand automatically gravitates to the “on” switch on the console, too.
The plumber is coming out later this morning. Better now than Christmas day, I guess.