I've Given Up And Am Going Out A Lot This Week ... Again

So I've bitched often (though not in the past week like I thought) about "needing" to go out too many evenings in the week.  Man, sometimes I just want to go home from work and fucking stay there.

I was trying to reach some equilibrium with that this week, especially since it's a holiday weekend and you're supposed to just veg out.  But I had to chuck that all out the window.  First it's because of my cousin and her son.  She said that Friday might work, but that's The Official Start Of Summer, and I had plans to go to my speakeasy and ease into this Endless Summer by drinking.  Saturday could work, too, but United FC has a Match in the afternoon, I wanted to relax with pizza and a beer afterwards, and there is the possibility of the English Championship Play-Up Match that morning (I say possibility because as I type this, there is a hearing to determine whether Southampton, one of the teams playing, should be kicked out for spying on Middlesbrough, the club it beat more than a week ago to reach the Final).  Sunday and Monday are a lot freer, but I was hoping to fuck ****e one of those days and stay in the other, and I want to do both so badly that I consider seeing my cousin one of those days, as convenient that it might be, a frustrating spanner in the works.  I don't want to say I would rather not see my cousin, but ...

I'm getting over myself.  For one thing, all this soccer watching is still up in the air; Sunday, for example, is Decision Day in the EPL.  If Tottenham Hotspur is still in jeopardy of being relegated, I'm going out to watch it at a pub that morning, and in that case I probably won't have any time to myself at home this weekend.  Still, I'm looking for some solace, and I have to look to the workweek for that, too.  My plan during the workweek was to go out last/Monday night because I had a gas coupon that was going to expire, so I might as well work on my receipts and eat out.  Tonight/Tuesday night and tomorrow/Wednesday night I would stay in, finally.  Thursday I would, for the first time ever, go out to the State Fair, which now opens for Memorial Weekend.  Then Friday's the speakeasy.

That was all shot to hell when I came home from work last/Monday night.  Taped onto my screen door was a notice from the city.  They're doing something with the main sewer line tomorrow/Wednesday.  Between 8 in the morning and 8 in the evening, I am not supposed to use any water at all in the house.  Well, fuck.  I might as well not go home after work.  So, what to do?  How about go to the speakeasy then?  I don't want to "celebrate" summer two days early, but frankly, it makes a lot of sense to just do this tomorrow/Wednesday night.  Not only would I give the city time to not mess up the house's sewer system, going out (instead of staying in) tomorrow/Wednesday night frees up Friday night for me to hang with my cousin and cousin once removed.  Looking at it that way, a lot of problems get solved.

So I'm being a social butterfly again.  Yippee ... ?

(Aside: I am working the early shift at work today/Tuesday.  I should be in bed instead of blog posting this.  Anyway, if I get done with work early, well, it would theoretically allow me to go exercise at a decent hour in the evening.  Yeah, golly, I can do that.  But on that announcement by the city, I am supposed to pour water down all my drains in anticipation of this sewer line cut tomorrow/Wednesday.  It may not take up a whole lot of time, but if I'm doing that, I might as well do other chores ... like go through my stuff, finally.  Yeah, I need to get in shape, but if I really want to go home -- well, I should just do this, huh?  Might as well salvage one night to do nothing.)

Working Five Days, Being Paid For Eight!!!

Damn, I am racking up the overtime this week.  There always seems to be work that takes me past eight hours.  But the combination of extra work in all the positions I work, plus being asked to stay late to do data entry, plus one of my co-workers taking this week off, meant that there was a ton of work I had, and could, do -- and I did it.

I have one huge incentive to work as much as I can this week.  My co-worker?  She works Saturdays. The company is really hurting if people don't work on the weekends, so a couple months ago, my boss asked if I could work today in her place -- and OT was available.  I leapt at that chance with the quickness.  Guaranteed time-and-a-half two months before it happens?  That helps me plan ... and anticipate!

And once work made me stay just over ten hours Tuesday and Wednesday, I could envision a scenario where I would work ten hours Thursday and yesterday/Friday.  Even though I worked only and exactly eight hours Monday, staying an extra two hours each day of the rest of my normal workweek meant that I would have worked in extra eight hours by the end of yesterday/Friday.  I would have worked only five days, but 48 hours.  Now, add in today/Saturday.  I might be able to stay for OT, but actually, I want to leave in time to grab dinner and then watch The Preakness and then the MNUFC Match.  But even if I stay just eight hours today/Saturday, that means I would have worked over 56 hours this week.  That's an extra 16 hours of overtime, and at time-and-a-half, that means I would be paid the equivalent of 24 bonus hours this week!  I am working six days, but working the equivalent of seven days, and then getting paid the equivalent of eight days!!!

This doesn't beat the week I worked more than 80 hours wondering if I could get double time after I reached that point.  (In case I didn't blog post that, I didn't.)  But I don't remember the last time I worked so much in a week since then.  And I need every single bonus penny I can get from the overtime.  Gas is expensive now!!!

Seizing An Opportunity, Or Throwing Money Away?

I have to admit I haven't been going through my stuff as much as I thought I would now that my parents have been gone for almost four months.  And when I say "as much," I mean almost not at all.  I hadn't even looked at the boxes I brought in from storage until Monday night, and even then I have only thrown one piece of paper away because I had a duplicate sheet of paper with the exact same information on it.

Meanwhile, the shit in my storage unit keeps piling up.  It is way over my head now.  Moreover, there are containers I've bought that are precariously on top of paper bags of my stuff that probably have shifted.  It's all too much, obviously, and beyond the fact that I need the will to go through it all and the time in which to think and to, if I want, peruse all the magazines and other reading material that make up the vast majority of my stuff, I need some space in which to move stuff around.  Can't do that now that my 5x5 is just about full.

So that is why I had been thinking, for some time, about getting another storage unit.  And I really, really want to get one for the short term, just to give me that space.  Yes, famous last words, but I'm too hemmed in to do stuff right now.  And besides, if I had two storage units, I could literally re-do my storage unit so that, once I am ready to go back down to one, I would have everything in the unit I want to keep all tidy and organized because I would have a spot in which I could reorganize everything.  As much as I would like to go through my things in my basement, it'd be much better if I could do it all in one building.  Having another storage unit there helps me do that.

I finally began looking to see if the unit place had another unit open.  They did, and the 5x10, which would have been perfect, was put up on special, like a 33% discount if you paid for half a year.  But I had till the end of the month, or Friday, to rent it.  After thinking for several days about whether I want to sink a few hundred more dollars into a storage unit I may be keeping for the long term (if I were being honest with myself), I decided, yes, this would spur me into finally getting my butt into gear and to actually go through my stuff.

Last/Tuesday night I went online to rent the 5x10 ... and the deal was gone.  The unit was there, but the only price point available was a month-to-month, and it was expensive.  However, there was just one more 5x5 available at that same 33% discount and which also expired on Friday.  It's not what I wanted; instead, I'm getting the exact same-sized unit.  But still, it doubles the amount of space in which I can store my stuff (temporarily, I say to myself).  Do I pass this by?  Do I wait and potentially allow someone else to get this?  Finally, do I say to myself I'll think it over and then completely forget about it by Friday?

The amount at which I'm getting the unit is a relative steal.  I don't know how much it would be if I need to extend use of the second unit for another half-year, but I won't have to deal with that problem until just before Halloween.  So I got it.  I don't exactly know where it is, but if it's not right across from the unit I have now, it's close.  I'm imagining spending an afternoon being productive by shuttling between units, throwing things away, reading magazines all by myself, and finally putting order to chaos.

Or will I?  I still have several boxes of things I haven't gone through downstairs, and it's been four months.  I might swing by the unit place (with the circle lock -- which, I should say, I bought on Sunday anticipating my decision to rent out this second storage unit) and start ... or I might push it off till this weekend ... or do it next weekend ... or next month ... or never, and I will have wasted hundreds of dollars because I just didn't want to expend the energy to do the thing I know, deep down, I should do.  But if I do do this, I needed to get this rental now while it's on sale.  Otherwise, if I decide I need a second storage unit later, it'll cost me even more money.  Or, I could just tell myself I could just finally get around to looking through my stuff and, you know, do what I promised myself I would do.

What I do or don't do about this situation will tell me a lot about myself, I'm afraid.

When Second-Guessing Is The Right Thing To Do

When I leave for work in the morning, I frequently forget something to which I need to shut down the car, open the front door to my house, and disarm the alarm in order to retrieve what I left behind.  It's usually my cellphone, so it's a pain-in-the-ass to do my steps backwards and then do them all over again once I find my phone.

This time around, once I turned my car on I forgot something else, namely an envelope Mother asked me to stuff with tax forms that had to be delivered here and not to my parents' condo in Las Vegas.  I wondered when I would have the time to get to a post office to send it.  We've been so busy at work that swinging by the post office close to me would be fruitless because they would be closed by the time I'm free.  I thought Sunday would be the earliest I could do it; I would be able to go down to ****e's place for a little screw time, then in the afternoon I could go to the post office at MSP before going home.

Two things wrong with that.  First, and I don't remember when I checked, that post office branch isn't exactly on the way back.  I would have to deviate east for a bit, then jog back west in order to head north.  Second, I would be downtown both last/Tuesday night (for a concert) and tonight/Wednesday night (for a Golden Gopher baseball Game).  The downtown post office closes in the evening, so if I get out of work early enough, I'd be able to go to the post office, mail the envelope to My Mother, then do whatever I want downtown because I'm already there.

In anticipation of that, I was going to throw that envelope filled with Mother's tax forms in my bookbag so I would have it with me if I had the time to send it.  But, alas, I forgot.  Oftentimes I would remember once I am more than halfway to work, and for those time I just mentally shrug and say to myself I'll do it tomorrow.  But once I remembered the envelope after I started my car, I just kept thinking that the moonshot of leaving work with enough time to mail the envelope and then go to the concert was a risk worth taking.  So, I turned off my car, went back inside, disarmed the alarm and picked up the envelope.

And good thing, too.  While I had to stay late at work, it wasn't late enough where I couldn't still get to the post office, pay to ship the envelope, find another parking spot, and walk for almost a mile to the club to get to the concert, which began at the strange hour of 6.  And so I did all that, and I caught the last couple songs of the first of three acts and the entirety of the other two (with a DJ filling in the set changes while stagehands haul off musical equipment).  Plenty of time.  Now, I think about how badly I would have screwed myself if I remembered the envelope before driving off to work but said whatever.  Glad I trundled back inside, because a sizable chore for Mother has been done.

And Another Snow Day!!!

This is more than ridiculous; this is fucking absurd.  Either this is one fucking monstrous snowstorm or Southerners really don't know how to deal with snow and ice, because when I woke up and checked my texts, my boss said there wasn't a shipment again this morning.  Third day in a row.  We've never had two days of no work, let alone three.  So, another snow day!!!

Not to complain too much, but you really can't enjoy a surprise day off if you have to wake up assuming you don't have the day off.  Compounding that annoyance is that today, because I was scheduled to go in and cut packages open, I had to wake up early.  Then, once I saw that someone was going to go in to work and do everything for the rest of us, I tried to go back to sleep but couldn't.  (This despite having only, at most, 90 minutes of shuteye overnight.)

Unlike yesterday, today I had planned on going out: There's a volunteer event my financial planner is putting on very close to my house.  And since he's treating everyone to dinner afterward, hell yeah, I'm going.  And since I am taking the car out today, I might as well go to the Walker today and use that offer to see the museum for free after buying a ticket to the Arrows.  I had planned on going Saturday, but the chances are now very good that I will be working that day, so I switched plans and went just today.

You know, I know I'm not enjoying these surprise days off as much as I should because one day, this will all be over and we will have to go back to work.  Something good will be taken from me, and anticipating that will happen makes me very, very sad.  But that day wasn't today.  And, to be fair, I really thought that it would be yesterday and it wasn't.  So I'm riding on free money.

The one thing I'm lacking right now is sleep.  I have to end this blog post now in order to try and get a nap in before I go to this volunteer event.

A Gig Or Democracy (Or Neither)?

I anticipated working a Wild Game this week.  I signed up for it and everything.  But I have yet to hear back from them confirming I would be working for them.  At some point, if I don't hear anything from them (and I swear I looked everywhere -- e-mails, texts, and especially the junk boxes for both just in case their messages went there), I have to figure they're not going to hire me.

I decided that yesterday/Monday afternoon was the deadline.  I checked everywhere one more time, but no one said, "Hey, can you work the Wild Game this week?"  I knew this was a Game for which they could use a runner, so a few months ago I blocked off two days this week at work.  Well, I'm not going to work the Game even if I get a late-night, desperation text right now asking me if I could work it.  Too late, you know?

That means I now can work this week ... however, you may have heard that there is not one but two walkouts planned for this week, one today/Tuesday and one on Friday.  I want to support democracy and protest our fascist regime in my own passive-aggressive way ... by taking those days off.  And I might as well give up the ghost to illustrate the absurd irony of this situation: The two days I had to block off to work the Wild Game are tomorrow/Wednesday and Thursday.  So I am going from taking tomorrow/Wednesday and Thursday off to taking today/Tuesday and Friday off ... well, seeing as last-minute as this change is, taking this/Tuesday afternoon off, which would coincide with a planned nationwide walkout this/Tuesday afternoon.

And, well, wanting to take today/Tuesday and Friday off.  This is very last-minute, but I tried reaching out to my new boss about flipping my days off this week.  I haven't heard back from her yet.  I hope I can still do it, and I hope this change doesn't affect all the plans she and my co-workers may have had when it comes to where they're working.  But, well, if I can't work a hockey Game, I may as well protest our freedoms being taken from us, right?

You Know, I Don't Think My Parents Are Sleeping Together Anymore

By that I mean literally sleeping together, not, um, figuratively (barf)

Like I've said, Mother isn't perfect, but she can walk good now.  I haven't seen her negotiate the stairs all that much, but while she takes it slow, she seems to not have an issue with walking up or down.  The exercises she needs to concentrate on now have to do with adjusting the body while isolating her new knee and putting stresses on her joints (not just her new knee) -- standing up from a chair, high kicks on stairs, stuff like that.

I say this to say that she shouldn't have too much trouble now going up and down the stairs, and down the stairs is where the master bedroom and bathroom are.  That's also where Father ends up after we have dinner.  We all split up: Him to his bedroom, me to my bedroom, and Mother to her bedroom ... which is not the same bedroom as Father's.  Anticipating that she would be incapacitated after knee surgery, they decided that they would turn my former bedroom back into a bedroom where Mother would sleep in as she recuperates.  It's upstairs (we have a split-level) because that's where the kitchen and her sewing machine is.  As long as she was confined to walking on one level, it had to be the one where she can eat and spend her hours at her hobbies.

So that was a few weeks ago.  I assumed it would be temporary, that once she was able to walk up and down stairs without too much pain, she would rightfully move back in with Father in the master bedroom.  No, that hasn't happened yet.  The few times I checked up on her, she is in her bed (it's my bed frame; while this may have been the reason she took my bed, her knee surgery was used by My Fucking Parents as an excuse to toss all the stuff that was important to me, and now I'm getting all pissed the fuck off again, so I'll move on), her pillows arranged how she wants, watching her videos on her streaming box.  She's happy as a clam in her own room.  Moreover, my sister, when she was here, asked if she wanted to move back downstairs once my sister thought Mother could walk down the stairs without too much difficulty.  Mother said no, at least for the time being, because she felt that she would make too much noise and wake Father up if and when she needed to get out of bed in the middle of the night and shuffle to the master bathroom to pee.  Two things about that.  Would that worry change now that she can walk instead of shuffle?  And since she can walk, why wouldn't she move back downstairs and bug Father like usual when she does get up to pee?  It's how they've been living all this time anyway, right?

So it's that second point I want to hone in on.  I'm starting to get the feeling that Mother actually likes her own bedroom.  Why wouldn't she?  She has the whole room to herself so she can do whatever she wants.  And I believe Father snores, and she likes that she doesn't have to hear him snoring.  If she does enjoy sleeping alone, that probably means Father likes sleeping alone as well.  He isn't getting woken up by Mother when she needs to pee, of course.  The only worry Mother has is that Father, who is getting up there in age, won't have someone around him if he falls, Buddha forbid.

I would like Mother to move back down, not gonna lie.  That way I can have the bathroom all to myself.  I don't have to move around the bathmat in case she trips over it.  I can also arrange my shampoo and toothbrush to where I want it.  Finally, I want the upper part of the house to myself in case I don't want to put any clothes on if I need to get up from my bed and shuffle into the bathroom to pee.  However, if this separate bedrooms thing is permanent, and if both parental units are going to be here for a while, this is a New Normal I really, really won't like.

Don't Ever Be A Sports Fan

Ever since the Jynx choked Tuesday and lost home-court advantage, I have been in a bad mood.  Well, moreso than usual, and that includes the meddling, I-know-what's-best-for-you bullshit I've been dealing with from My Fucking Parents for the last goddamn month.  But I'm upset, and I shouldn't.  Why?  Because it's fucking sports.

Yes, I'm a fan.  But it's not as if these players know who the hell I am.  And I could easily ignore what's going on with the Lynx and live my life in peace.  Instead, I allow this to affect my attitude, my behavior, and my day.  If you step back and think, that is both reckless and stupid.

I have married that seething anger with a fear in anticipation for today.  Game 3 is tonight, and if the Jynx lose and go one Loss away from being eliminated in a season where they were far and away the best team (that we don't celebrate teams for being the best over the course of the regular season is purely an American thing; if this were any soccer league elsewhere in the world, there would be trophies raised and parades on the street for the Lynx already, but that's a blog post for another time) ... man, I will hate the man I will become.  And then I will hate myself further for allowing myself to have my life influenced by the results of a sports team.

These are the times when I curse myself for loving sports so much.  Because if and when my teams lose, the pain and anger that well up inside me -- which is often venerated as a characteristic of "a true fan" -- is something I can't shake for a long time.  You can say that it's worth it when they win a championship, but this is Minnesota -- we don't win championships here.  So it's all just pain and anger.  And I stepped into this realm, and I am too stubborn and/or stupid to step out of it.

I guess you're going to have to save me by winning, Lynx.  See how pathetic that sounds, asking a bunch of people who don't know you from Adam to win so I can feel better?  Don't ever be a sports fan.

RIP Car (For Real For Real)

OK, so on Thursday, apparently the tow truck driver called Father, but he didn't pick up because he doesn't answer calls from phone numbers he is not familiar with, which is completely understandable.  But the driver apparently was outside the house when he called, and since Father didn't answer, he drove off.

I got around to calling to ask what's up, and they rescheduled for today/Monday.  This time I added my phone number as a back-up in case My Father didn't pick up again.  But this failsafe probably means that the car is going to be taken away, from my life, for real now.  And so, because this is the last last last time, yesterday/Sunday afternoon (before I headed off to overtime at work and then to Palmer's and downtown) I did my OCD ritual of sitting in all four seats of my old car, touching everything inside the car, taking five deep breaths, and mediating (or trying to meditate) for 70 seconds before moving on.  I've done this three times now, and I try to give it the reverence it deserves.  They're hauling away my first love and my means of freedom for so long, after all.  But at this point, frankly, this feels similar to all the talk leading up to Grandmother being forced to leave the house for the memory care home.  I hated doing it, but deep down I knew it was the right thing to do, and going through the trauma of anticipating losing someone (in this case something) so near and dear to me has worn me down to the point where I just want it to be fucking over.  In a way that's giving up, and I hate it, but it feels like it's time.  Well, it was supposed to be time on Thursday, but I'm sure that today really is time.  Maybe.

Expenses Without Receipt

Starting from Saturday, July 12:

• Went to the barber school to get my face shaved in anticipation of my big event on Saturday.  I complained about waiting to the point of missing most of the Sweden-Germany Women's EUROS Match in my previous blog post.  But I also have to note that I completely fucked up the handshake the guy shaved me gave me.  I went for the White one when he wanted to do, uh, something else.  God, I am so White.  I think I made up for it once I was done, but I mostly tipped to make up for my screw-up when we met.  So, with tip, the shave cost me: $14.
• Let's go back to Thursday the 10th, where, in anticipation of getting an HJ from ******e, I stopped before work at a bank to get some cash.  And since I needed to get gas, I figured I might as well spend more cash and walk over to Caribou for a mocha.  I cannot believe how expensive mochas are now, even with the ten cents off for getting the trivia question right, and I have to start thinking about cutting back for real.  With tip: $6.95.
• This seems like a mistake, but if not, I have to go all the way back to Thursday, June 12, when I visited my ATF at My Favorite Stripclub before my parents got home.  Cover, a bottle of Redd's, tips and 20 table dances from her equalled: $230.
• Back to Tuesday, June 3, where I did get an HJ from ******e, and we did it at my house because my parents were not home: $120.
• Sunday the 1st -- got my car washed.  Charged the wash but paid the tip in cash: $4.
• I then went to the coffeeshop real close by for a light lunch -- a bowl of their great chili and a can of Coke.  They sell ginger beer by the bottle there, too, so I grabbed one for cocktails at home.  With tip: $14.63.
• And now, back to Saturday, May 31, where, on my way to the United FC Match, I saw a couple local kids selling lemonade.  As a son of small business people, I want to encourage nascent capitalism, so I bought a glass for the low, low price of: 50 cents.
• Afterward I went to Bang Brewing, also in St. Paul.  I regaled you with this story before, but it may have been a mistake to follow up gorging on the free food I got in the VIP section at Allianz Field before and during the USWNT Match with a pizza here, but I did, and I needed to take a couple slices home for leftovers.  Anyway, I charged the pizza but paid for the Kernza Lager with cash.  And with a tip it totaled: $9.
• Sunday, May 25: Went to Hooters to use a calendar coupon.  With tip: $32.
• I then stopped by Dunkin' Donuts at the floor below for a couple donuts.  With tip: $4.47.
• Finally, back on Saturday, May 24 I got turned out by *****y, also here at home.  Man, I wish I had the run of the place to myself so I could get my pee-pee touched.  Total: $150.

I need to do these more often.  Good through July 12.

I Have The Don't Know How My Oil To Put In My Car Blues Again

This happened once before, but I forget when.  Anyway, I checked the oil in my car in anticipation of bringing it into the dealership Thursday -- not for the car, necessarily, but for getting a new spare key fob.  The dealership is going to "check everything" anyway, and I figure that ... well, come to think of it, it wouldn't have hurt of I didn't check the oil, but I surmise that if it's a little low, the dealership will use that to tell me that my car is in bad shape and it needs $3,000 worth of repairs.  Don't know why I thought that I could avoid that upselling if I put in a little more oil.

(sigh) Anyway (again), I saw that the level was half-full/half-empty, and so I decided to use the rest of the bottle of oil that's in my car and threw it into my engine.  It was only a quarter of a quart.  And yet, when I checked the oil level, it was as if I had thrown a brand new bottle into it.  Its level was all over the damn place.  I thought it would only go up a little bit!  And this crap has happened before!  And I keep making the same mistake again!  Or is it a mistake?  (sigh again)

Well, I'm hoping I didn't overfill the engine.  It seemed fine going home, and besides, if adding a quarter of a quart destroys my car, I don't know why they make cars that are that finicky.  Hey, if I did overfill it, maybe the dealership can let me know ... or yell at me, or tell me I've destroyed my car, or something.

Motherfucker Back To His Cruel Ways

I'm just kind of running red right now because Father went through my bedroom and threw everything away.  Well, not everything, but the papers I keep around my bedroom which, for some goddamn reason, has always set him off.  I didn't think he would do it, but the occasion of my sister and brother-in-law gave him an excuse to go on his fucking cleaning jags.

I went home to see my bedroom a lot less, uh, "cluttered" than usual, and then I had to really control my temper in order not to lose it.  I acted passive-aggressively after that -- I had to go out and retrieve two bags of my stuff that motherfucker stuffed into the recycling bin (glad I did that; recycling day's today), I stomped into my sister's room and my former bedroom to find my other stuff, and I didn't eat much dinner (there wasn't much I liked anyway).  I didn't want to start a fight with My Fucking Father, but if My Fucking Father wanted to start a fight, I was ready to meet his challenge.  But he didn't, so I didn't.

And yet my paranoia and anger still wells in me.  I had to alter my plans tonight; I wanted to buy stuff at Target in anticipation of them coming back home, but I had to go to my storage unit to give my stuff safe harbor.  But there is still one big bag of my stuff that, for some fuckin' reason, My Fucking Father put into my old room and not the recycling bin.  He might've thought he couldn't throw it away.  But after I leave in the morning -- and I will leave earlier than I do, and because it's Halloween, I won't be coming back till late -- I could see him going outside, looking into the bin, see that I pulled stuff out (if he hasn't already suspected it), and dumping the rest of my stuff there.  Would he be so cruel?  Yes.  He's My Fucking Father.

The only reason I haven't is because, if he doesn't care enough to look at the bin in the morning, then he has done all he wanted to do, and moving even more stuff into storage is wasted energy when I have other shit I need to do.  But considering this supreme violation, I cannot put anything past him.  He had to fucking escalate again because he has nothing else in his life, that asshole.

This Weekend, It'll Just Be Me And Him

Mother's going on a girls-only road trip this weekend.  This, I think, is her third one.  I'm glad that this time, she actually told me beforehand.  And I'm also glad, although I was surprised when Father told me she was spending those two weekends away, that she has girlfriends with whom she can go on road trips.

So that leaves Father and me this weekend.  That will be strange as all get out.  I really think that without Mother as a buffer, he will feel free to lecture me around the dinner table about cleaning my room and going back to school.  It's been a while since he hectored me about that, but anticipating the worst this weekend, I might react to it, uh, not well, let's just say.

I wanted to take the heat off leading into this weekend by doing things that make it look as though I am being a productive member of this household.  Namely, I had intentions this week of cleaning up my room.  But instead, I had a movie I wanted to go to Monday (I told my folks I was going to work out), on Tuesday I had to visit my alumni bar downtown, and Wednesday and last/Thursday night I just fell asleep after dinner.  And I had plans on exercising for real at least one of those days.  So, those best laid plans are ruined, and I have invited My Father to call me on the carpet for doing nothing around the house.

And yet, beyond all that, I am now worried about Father's health.  There is nothing telling me he is sick or going to hurt himself.  But I have never worried about him because he is never alone.  Seriously, I cannot remember my parents being apart for more than a weekend, such as this weekend.  But I go to work today, and tomorrow/Saturday I have that Game-watching event, and then I plan on working on my receipts while hanging out at a coffeeshop after that Game.  Meanwhile, he will be all alone, and while I am worried about his old age, I am also kind of scared he'll get bored out of his mind.  Then again, like I alluded to above, I don't know if I can stand being alone with him, either.

Mother comes back Sunday.  I hope it's closer to the morning than the evening.  But she doesn't even know the city the hotel she's staying in is located.  I will hope Father remains in good spirits while she is gone.  I will also hope I don't kill him.

Have I Mentioned How Much I Hate Going Into The Lab?

I don't know why my work schedule is getting to me this week, but it is.  I was in The Fourth Department to start off the week, and then yesterday/Wednesday I was in Filing for the first half of the day, then keying the back half.  Today/Thursday I am in The Third Department to start off, but only for two hours, then I'm in My Main Department the rest of the day, working the scanner in the afternoon, and I don't know how good I feel about that.  Finally, tomorrow/Friday I'm out there all day, including my weekly trip into the lab to cut open packages and reach into piss.

My time in My Main Department increases throughout the week from zero to four to six to eight, and while I usually like varying my workday because it keeps me awake, seeing my workweek end in the lab this week puts me off.  It ends my week with a thud.  I prefer (at least right now; my mood can change if you ask me another time) getting the worst part of my job out of the way in the middle of the week because my workweek only gets better from there, while this week will end in a nadir.

It probably is my own fault, but I have made little to no effort to make my time back there a good or even an endurable one.  Case in point was my time in there last week.  I unfortunately had to work next to the old hag, the one who threw a package I shoved her way in order to get all the work done.  Partly because of that, uh, incident, but also because I was in hell, I just kept to myself -- I didn't grouse or bitch, but I certainly wasn't gregarious.  I just did my job in order to be done with it.

It is possible that this, uh, lab worker was making entreaties to me, but I admit that any time she said something to me, I kept my comments to a brief "OK" without making eye contact.  Was it possible that my terseness was the reason that, when I moved over an open package from one side of the table to the other, she angrily yelled, "Leave that over there!  We are closed!"?  Probably, possibly, who knows?  All I know is that because of that moment, I am justified in not acting totally friendly to her.  Seriously, what is her fucking problem?

Meanwhile, my problem is that I hate this part of the job so much that it's beginning to affect my whole job.  I don't have to do this crap until tomorrow and I'm allowing it to piss me off.  But I can't help but think about it because I know I will have to do it.  You know, that reaction should be impetus enough to find a new job.  And I guess I will ... when I have the time and the energy to do it.  Which is not now.

Work And Job

This week has been kind of weird, to be honest.  I initially took all this week off in anticipation of working somewhere else all week, even though I didn't work this Game last Year and wanted to.  When it wasn't looking as though I was working the Game all week, I had the option of taking back my paid time off to work at my day job instead.  I was severely lacking in paid time off later in the year.  But ... I really, really don't want to work in My Main Department right now.  Why?  Because I might hit somebody in the lab.

Guess I should talk about this now.  Once a week, all of us in The Main Department have to go in and open up packages to start getting urine samples ready to be tested.  It's a menial job, so everybody has to do it.  I think I've complained about this before, but sometimes these samples leak, and so you're reaching in to an open package and touching piss.  Sometimes it's really gross.  I don't know how people are unfazed by this, but I think I'm a very different person now that I have a job whereby I touch piss on occasion.  It's ... debasing.

Moreover, I had a run-in with one of the lab people a couple weeks ago.  This isn't the asshole who was riding me like a high schooler over accidentally cutting myself.  This was some older lady who has her own way of getting through all the hundreds of packages that we need to cut open and whose contents we need to get out for her, in that position, to scan into our system.  She was, let's just say, impatient, and I got that hostile vibe and so I kept away from her as much as possible.  I, of course, don't want to be there at all, but that does not motivate me to work faster.  Anyway, we were getting down to large packages, which the lab has as protocol the thing we do last because it takes time to open boxes that large packages usually come in.  I'm throwing the last of the packages onto the counter, and apparently one of them just happened to slide too close to her, so she throws it back to the other side of the counter -- missing me, but not by a lot -- and says, "No!  Not that!"  And that just made me vent at her: "Hey, sorry I threw that package your way!"  And it was loud enough for her and the other people at the workstation to hear, and probably to sense my defensive tone.

That was a couple weeks ago.  I am sure that if I added back dates this week, I would be sent into the lab.  And not as if I would run into her again -- like us, they are on a rotation as to who opens up packages at this station every day and every week -- but after that blow-up, I think it was a good idea to ensure that I don't go into that lab for another week.  I didn't go in there last week either (that was a decision made by my boss), and I think it's good I go at least two weeks without being seen in there.  Maybe cooler heads will prevail.

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Where was I?  I didn't think I would talk about that incident because I want to talk about the gig I have today.  Anyway, I compromised; I went in to my main job on Monday because I wanted to take back one day of work.  Turns out, by the way, that the day I am taking off next week I am getting back; my boss asked me to come in on Saturday, and that would replace Tuesday, when I am coming back on my flight.  After these two weeks, I will have two more days off of paid time off I can take this fall and winter, which is two more than I thought I would have.

But I am only working this other gig today/Thursday.  The other days ... well, I went and am going to the State Fair.  It's weird to wake up whenever you want to instead of when you have to wake up.  I mean, it's great, but I remember that for three of these four days I could have gone in to work instead.  Instead, I'm waking up largely when my body wants to wake up, which was, I think, 10:45 Tuesday and around 9:15, maybe, yesterday/Wednesday.  And I have been lazing around thinking, "OK, what should I do?"  I am, hate to say it, kind of bored.

And this gig, by the way, starts at 1.  It's a lot better than having, say, a 7 a.m. call time.  But I woke up on my own at a quarter to 10 when I set my alarm for 11:30.  I think I'm ready to go to work now.  But I have 90 minutes to go before it's showtime.  And by the way, I think I am setting my alarm for 11 (to go to the Fair) tomorrow, but my body might be awake well before then.  I was looking forward to my body having time overnight to sleep and wake on its own, and yet it seems like I'm waking up too early.  I might be scaring myself more than I need to.

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This blog post became different than what I initially thought it would be.

Goddammit, she confirmed -- confirmed!! -- that she was going to wank my cock this afternoon.  And then this fucking morning she says she needs to put it off a couple hours.  She says it's because one of her regulars wants to take her and her friend (both of whom have double-teamed me once or twice) out to lunch and is willing to pay her bill.  The other stripper girlfriend is celebrating her birthday.  You know it's her birthday; you couldn't anticipate this regular coming down for the weekend and doing this, especially if he's coming down from an hour away??  Bullshit.

She never came off as a flake to me until very recently, and now it's been, like, three times she's done this shit.  I'm going to wait till the afternoon because I'm horny af, but I hate getting strung along like this, I absolutely fucking hate it.

Gonna Catch Hell At Work Again. Gonna Lose It

Thought that given the decrease in work coming in and the increasing number of times the people working at The Main Department have been allowed to leave early, I thought yesterday/Tuesday could be a day where I could leave early and talk to my psychotherapist early.  Nuh-uh.  Every one of us was late getting out of work -- me by only 15 minutes, but everyone else by 45.  There was a slight uptick in the number of forms that came in, but I say it's mostly due to the fact that we didn't all those forms until late, and that the software we use to key information into our database got so slow and buggy that it froze, no joke, up to three dozen times over the course of the day.

But the paranoiac in me thinks that I will be blamed for the time overrun.  I was scanning these forms in, and I am, shall we say, methodical.  OK, I could be described as slow.  And I wonder if people in that department wonder if they could have left on time if not for my supposed slow-pokiness.  I did my best, but this might be a case where my best isn't good enough.

That's important to note if any accusations get run up to my boss.  See, I'm in The Fourth Department from today/Wednesday through the end of the week, and I know I will be faced with going over again.  I'm already about 20 minutes on the plus side.  It's inevitable that I stay late at least one of the next three days, thus getting over 40 hours for the week.  I'm not going to go out of my way to leave early; I know what I'm doing back there, and I think how I'm doing the job is right.  But that means the eventual and inevitable, "What the hell are you doing staying late again?!" e-mail from my boss, and frankly, I have had it.  I'm pretty sure I'll get crap for saying late the first two days of the week, so I'm dreading the worst.  And I am in such a bad mood anticipating these accusations that I might just blurt something out that I will regret after I say it.  I'm still looking for another job, but for now, I still have this one -- and I still need it.  But I swear, if my boss gives me any grief about staying late again, I think I will lose it.

I'm Not Looking Forward To This Vacation??

Alright ... so I leave on vacation this afternoon, and yet I haven't really packed.  I mean, I have, but I don't have a clear idea of what I need to bring.  Well, I kind of do -- clothes, toiletries, score cards for Cardinals Games -- but before, I would actually write down a list of all things I was bringing, even the obvious items.  I'm not doing that for this.  It might be because I think I have what I want to bring in my head.  But honestly, I think some of it is laziness, and some of it I attribute to ... well, not looking forward to this vacation.

How can't I?  My main motivation is to chase the eclipse.  I'll expound on it later, but it's an awesome sight, and since it won't be coming around for another 20 years in the continental U.S., I should be anticipating it with eagerness.  But, I'm not.  I don't know, maybe it's the situation with the job, but I'm just so ... blah with everything.

Well, too late to back out now.  Besides, I know I will regret not doing this if I do the rash and stupid thing and cancel my vacation.  I just hope that when I leave for the airport, I don't forget anything I need.

The Passive-Aggressive Dance With My Boss

You know, at this point I shouldn't be surprised that my boss is making me cut hours so I don't do overtime anymore.  And yet I found myself shocked and even angered that I was told to leave so that I would stay at 40 hours one week, and then to also be told last week to do the same even though I was taking days off and therefore, theoretically, he could balance out the hours I actually worked with paid time off so it would add to 40.  But no, for some dumb damn reason I can only work 24 hours last week.

The week before last I was in The Fourth Department all week.  Try as I might ... no, that's a lie, I was at work back there until all the work was done, I accrued OT -- not a lot, but enough so that I know he noticed.  He can be brusque, and I think he demonstrated that to me by the way he walked without veering from his path if we were about to cross paths, or by giving me the silent treatment until he absolutely had to speak to me.  To be clear, I am chafing most of all by the edict (that I am certain he is following according to the wishes of his boss or bosses) that I am not supposed to work overtime.  It doesn't matter how nicely my boss is treating me as he cuts my work shift short; I think I do good work but it takes some time, and I hate being told to leave my work so that I don't cost my company time-and-a-half.

So I have to admit I am dreading this coming week.  I am in The Fourth Department again all week.  And I know he's going to pressure me to just work 40 hours.  But you know what?  I think I can also play this passive-aggressive game.  I will not cheat to work past 40 hours.  But knowing that working more than 40 hours is an inevitability (or just about: One week earlier in the year I barely reached 40 hours because we had no work), I will not pop a blood vessel in order to leave at my appropriate time.  I know for sure that my boss is dreading my time at work in the Fourth Department this upcoming week, however, and I do not want to anticipate how he'll broach my overtime pay.  Hell, he might blindside me again and yank me out of that position for one day just so he can save our company ... what, $25 an hour he has to pay me in total, including OT?  Regardless of what happens, there is a burgeoning test of wills between my boss and I.  A part of me wants to stay and win this battle of wills.  Another part of me is a lover and not a fighter, and wants to take the course of action that kicks up the least amount of trouble.  I know which camp I'm in.  I think.  Maybe.

Well, Shit, Now It's Getting Fixed Today. Maybe.

So I called the computer repair place yesterday/Tuesday and they said the goddamn motherboard still hasn't come yet.  It's in fucking Rogers somewhere.  I thought they told me it was already in the state over the weekend.  They anticipate it'll come tomorrow and apparently popping a motherboard in isn't too long, so I'm supposed to get it back today/Wednesday.  Sure.  I'll believe 'em.  Why the hell not?

This is getting fucking ridiculous.  My life is largely on hold because I don't have my laptop.  I realized that I do all of my online payments through that, and I can't do it right now, and there are some bills that are coming due.  Like I've said before, I am kind of captive to this apparent held-up shipment.  But this has gotten so delayed, in my opinion, that I don't think highly of this repair shop, either.  I'm not certain that they'll get this done today.  I'm afraid that I will have to call them again when I don't see a voicemail from them and (after my call goes to VM and I'm told the mailbox is full even though these guys run a fucking business and it's been full ever since I called them) they'll say, "Uh, it still didn't come.  I don't know why, man."  Is it possible that they're holding my laptop hostage?  After a week and half without it, I'm not gonna say no.