Dammit, the 12 acre woodlot next to me is under contract 
We’d hoped to buy it but Covid put a giant crimp in our budget and we had to put it off. We’re about 3 mo away from being able to do it comfortably.
Hope the people that bought it aren’t going to clearcut the whole thing and put something horrible near my fence line.
Sigh …
Oh, hell no. My mother is now saying she was “misdiagnosed” with Borderline Personality Disorder. My mother definitely has BPD. “I’m sorry I misrepresented that I have anything more than PTSD.”
Fuck you, Mom.
I’m dreading the meeting I’m about to get on. It’s supposed to be a “state of the state” sorta meeting (where we are with X metrics) but I know I’m about to get shit on, and so is our vendor. The issue being that we knew there was a problem with the way we were performing back in March, so we did everything we could to improve it; we let clients know, we asked for help, we started putting in new processes to support the rest of the year.
However, since I work for a company of nearly 100,000 people, putting new things in place takes way fucking longer than it should. So now I get to explain to senior leadership (exactly the same way I explained to her privately last week) why our own red tape shoots us in the fucking foot in front of the damn vendor, who she will also scream at for not performing adequately when regulations were changed midyear that, guess what?, prevent us from performing adequately. And our own goddamn processes are so clunky we can’t accommodate change unless we have an 8 month window. Jesus Christ in a fucking ballgown, this is going to be crap-tastic. Here we go.
We’ll be waiting back here with chocolate and scotch for you. Let us know how it comes out.
I’ve got this. I’ll dial in and recommend some procedures to streamline your processes to actualize improvements in your day to day operations.
Would you prefer Six Sigma or Kaizen? Kanban maybe?
Sweet! We used to operate on Six Sigma and it translated to “How can we squeeze as much as possible out of as few people as possible?” Luckily that’s a little less common and they’re trying to actually follow that philosophy without putting people in the ER.
The meeting went surprisingly well. But I’ll take the scotch and chocolate, kaylasdad99! This week has been pretty terrible in general and I’ve been eyeballing the scotch since about 7:30 am.
I thought you cut off all contact with her? Which, frankly, sounded like a really healthy thing for you to do.
We are going to do this next. We haven’t yet because he’s seen so many different vets. Now that things have settled down somewhat, we can focus on his diet and hope that we can still get his daily meds into him without fancy feast.
I am once again reminded that there is no such thing as a free cat.
I have distant contact with her now. Text messages periodically. We had one visit. I wanted her to have some knowledge of her grandchild. We mostly talk about the Spice Kit which is pleasant enough. When she brings up family drama I usually just ignore it.
I was surprised how angry I got when she said she didn’t really have Borderline Personality Disorder. Shaking rage. But it seems to have passed. She’s allowed to have delusions about the nature of her illness. Maybe she’s right and she was never officially diagnosed. I can think of any number of reasons for that (therapist trying to spare her the stigma? Billing convenience? My mother lying to the therapist about the nature of her problems?) I felt so angry because I could immediately see her using her “misdiagnosis” as proof that she’s not responsible for any of the relationships she’s destroyed. But she was already in denial about that so I’m not sure it really changes anything.
My mother is not well, never will be. The more I’m able to accept that, the happier I am.
(mother lying to you about her diagnosis?)
Also a possibility. You know, I’ve just had a really rough week so I’m probably just extra sensitive to her shenanigans right now. Days like this I’m glad she lives on the other side of the country.
Us, too, because we really like you and are happy you are back.
Give the Spicy Kitten a hug from a complete stranger who is remaining well distanced.
Son of a fuckstick, work is making me nuts yet again. Here I am, trying to take a peaceful goddamn day off without having to work. I had just one meeting to clear before I was free until fucking Tuesday when, of course, shit goes south. I had a product all approved, had received agreement from every motherfucking one of the eight(!) committees I had had to visit to get it approved, then, then - on one last meeting, someone brought up a “but what about this scenario” we’d already thought of and now I have to prove it before we release it to the market. This same person was on at least two of the other fucking committees. So now I’ve got a two-day delay in the release of the communication and I’m fucking working when I’m completely motherfucking shot.
Meaning, after I got off the call I started crying hysterically because the two days I was so looking forward to just got thrown in the fucking toilet and now I have to bust my ass to get yet more motherfucking approvals. After I’ve had no fewer than 50 (really) people approve it. Okay, done. Breathing. Screaming inside, but breathing. Since I’m technically off the clock (ha), I’m going to take a walk around the block before my computer learns what it feels like to fly through a window.
I pit my brain today. I have the sads today for no reason and am spending what should be a beautiful Friday in a cloud of sadness. Again, for no reason. Nothing bad is happening, things are looking up honestly. I just found out that day care is going to cost $200 instead of $290 a week. So I should be happy. But I’m not. Stupid brain.
Why do city planners plant olive trees over sidewalks? Such a mess I have to avoid on my daily walk. I practically have to walk in the middle of the damn street in some sections.
There, glad I got that off my chest.
We have fucking rats in our attic again. We had them years ago, but an animal control company helped us eradicate them. They have been having Mad Max-style races up there at dawn and dusk. And I’ve heard loud gnawing noises just above my bedroom. Last night they were running in between floors, between the living room and bedroom. We’ve put classic wood traps and a new-fangled CO2 cartridge trap up there, but the little bastards are too smart to fall for them.
I have a call in to the highest-rated rodent specialists on Yelp for my area. But we’re leaving on vacation in a day or two and I can’t make an appointment until the week after next.
Ick. I want to get up there with a pellet gun and shoot all the bastards.
The …fellow up at the top of our street has posted an enormous Trump/Pence sign on his fence, so that it’s right in front of everyone who has to drive up that street to the intersection. That’s me, twice a day. And I can feel it spiking my heart rate every time, as it is no doubt meant to do.
I just hope that …fellow takes the goddamned thing down in a punctual manner when Biden wins the election.
At my old job there was a director who was notorious for wanting every single option imagined in detail when he was presented with a proposal. It drove his managers crazy because no matter how intensively they did this, he would come up with some ridiculous idea they had left out. This was known around the office as “but what if there are bears?!”.
Check your local municipal ordinances. If it’s posted too close to the road, they can at least make him move it back closer to the house. And maybe fine him.
Ooh, you’re mean. I like you. 