Co-workers are clearing their desks in preparation for the long weekend - and I happen to be next in line for these processes. So I’m getting flooded with work. Some “rush” jobs.
My company’s management also makes it a practice to schedule deadlines just before holidays. So if there is any chance of not meeting deadlines they can direct the employees to work through the said holiday.
Interesting coincidence this year. We Canucks and Americans both have long weekends right now, despite different holidays on different dates – Canada Day is today, Friday, while Independence Day is Monday. Happy Birthdays all around!
Whatever you come up with, be sure you wait 'til August. Someone started June’s mini-rants a day early (presumably so everyone could see their oh-so-clever title). The Swiss timepiece embedded in my brain almost busted a spring.
My daughter’s dog got bitten at the park last night, and had a big flap of skin hanging off her side. Every emergency vet within 100 miles was booked solid and not accepting more animals. Today, ONE place could take her in. 9 hours later, she’s still getting treated. After x-rays and stitches, it’ll cost at least $1800. Hopefully the other dog’s owner comes through with the money.
Just got back from a haircut. I know there’s a tiny bit of hair clipping in my eye; I can feel it. But I’ve been looking and looking, using a flashlight, and damned if I can find it. I have light blonde/graying hair, so it’s invisible against my white eyeball.
The main thing is that the dog fully recovers. The furry four-legged critters love us unconditionally and deserve the same from us. If it’s any consolation, I once spent around the same amount for an MRI for my dog. It was not something I could easily afford at the time but I didn’t hesitate even for a second.
She’s back home, all stitched up. Her cone of shame is so large, she can hardly maneuver through the doorways. Hopefully she’ll get the hang of it soon, because she’s supposed to wear it for 14 days. If only we could train her to walk backward.
Tomorrow I must take a plane. From Berlin Airport to Strasburg Entzheim, one stop-over in Frankfurt, back in four days. I know already I will hate the whole trip. The only thing I am not sure of is whether I should suffer silently on my own or bother everyone telling all the nasty, boring, absurd details I will have to endure.