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[Nov. 27th, 2009|04:53 pm] |
| [ | Mood |
| |  relieved | ] |
I had a follow-up appointment with the rheumatologist this morning. Not holding my breath, but it did go rather well. He asked how I had been doing and I answered, truthfully, that the prednisone was making a difference, but only a very small one. Apparently the lab work from my last visit had come back showing very little sign of inflammation or disease activity at all - meaning that there really hadn't been much of a reason for me to go on prednisone in the first place, I'm guessing - but also, more importantly, that he finally was coming around to pretty much the same conclusion I had; i.e. 'hey, maybe we should look at those hip replacements after all!' Woo!
I'm going back in for x-rays sometime soon (I should have already, weeks ago in fact, but it would seem my referral never got where it was supposed to be, so I still haven't got that done); then possibly MR scans; then in January I'll be seeing a surgeon and talk shit through with them. In the meantime, I got a referral for physiotherapy so I can maintain (and improve) some muscle and flexibility until (hopefully) surgery. Yay!
I was not prescribed Enbrel, however. Both because of the elevated liver enzymes (they're pretty stable at around twice the maximum value of the reference range, but really shouldn't get much higher, he said) and because of the otherwise low disease activity. I totally agree with this - the hips are the only joints I have enough trouble with that it bothers me, and when prednisone is hardly touching the pain and stiffness, it's not likely that Enbrel will do any better. And with the hips hopefully gone before too long, I'm not gonna need it anyway.
I am a little bummed though. I feel so badass doing those subcutaneous injections...
Then for something entirely different: the Christmas party at work won't happen until January 16th. As it turns out, my sister's third job (in the wardrobe at some musical theatre downtown) will have theirs that day as well. I keep envisioning the horrors that will ensue when we bump into each other in town... |
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| (no subject) |
[Nov. 23rd, 2009|02:20 pm] |
Gotta love customers who are too drunk to figure out a) where on the ATM to insert their card; b) where the number keypad is; c) how to actually enter all the digits of their PIN; d) how to read the error message that inevitably results when they've only entered two digits and e) that the polite way of addressing somebody when asking for help is not by repeatedly going "Hey... Hey, you! Hey!"
The holiday season is definitely here. |
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| My ears are still ringing and I'm lacking a sufficiently badass icon, so this'll have to do |
[Nov. 15th, 2009|06:12 am] |
| [ | Mood |
| |  happily inebriated | ] |
I impressed myself by managing to buy both a new hoodie, a pair of jeans and new winter boots in less than an hour this afternoon, but that's neither here nor there in this context.
Prodigy was awesome. Utterly and fantastically so. Like, us Norwegians are generally not easily excitable, and I in particular am at the rather extreme end of... unexcitability? Normally I just feel dumb if I so much as raise my hands at a concert (yes, I am every performer's nightmare). But. I. Danced. Through the whole show. *I*!
( And then I ramble drunkenly on for a bit. ) |
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| Why yes, I am in fact composed of eighty per cent pure FAIL in aqueous solution |
[Nov. 13th, 2009|08:33 pm] |
| [ | Mood |
| |  dorky | ] |
For the past three hours I've been hungry, but unable to decide whether I want my cereal with milk or yoghurt. The obvious answer would be to eat something different altogether, but I can't really think of anything else I want.
Today, to my amazement, I managed to find an important letter that I last saw five years ago (it states that I am entitled to get Enbrel subsidised, so I'll get three months' worth for ~$100 instead of two weeks' worth for ~$1000, very practical considering I'd otherwise spend my entire paycheck on meds) - and it was even pretty much where I thought it would be (in my bag that I last used in high school). Granted, it took me the best part of two hours to find it, but in the process I finally got through cleaning out of another bag as well.
Other things I found:
- Four packs of gum (one Stimorol Fusion that expired in July '08; two Extras, of which one unopened; one Juicy Fruit; expiration dates unknown)
- Seven pens
- Six badges
- £5.64 in UK coins
- A plastic bag of dried lavender (my entire schoolbag REEKS now)
- Two Christmas cards from ![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif) ophelia_is_dead
- A broken dog collar
- The POCKET BOOK of MODERN AMERICAN SHORT STORIES, 'edited and with an introduction by Philip Van Doren Stern,' 8th printing, September 1945 (somewhat illicitly acquired from my high school library where I decided that nobody was appreciating it. Never mind that *I* haven't got through it yet in the five years or so since then...)
- Toni Morrison's Sula (also in paperback and not mine, but which I absolutely did not intend to keep, especially since I didn't like it as much as The Bluest Eye)
- A CD-ROM with a note from my Gramma's husband's daughter-in-law saying it contains pictures 'from the birthday, which [my uncle] will help you view.' Obviously I've no idea whose birthday it's from, in which year, or why it's in my bag
- Seven transparent plastic bags with those practical zip-locks (that's why I've kept them, I suspect)
- About fifty crappy sketches/doodles/drawings on the backs of envelopes/bills/bank statements
- Four free samples and one whole bag of throat lozenges, assorted brands, all expired
- Three movie tickets, the last from 2006
- Eight tickets for different jazz concerts
- Complete Plays, Sarah Kane
- Sarah Kane And The Theatre Of Extremes, Graham Saunders (unread)
- Fun Home, Alison Bechdel
- Our Man In Havana, Graham Greene (unread, I've only read the Norwegian translation... seven years ago)
- Brave New World, Aldous Huxley (half-read since July, shamefully - I was trudging through the introductions and lost steam about 40 pages into the actual novel)
- Seven receipts from the pet shop, dated October 2007... for things I've never bought
- A Jefferson Airplane t-shirt bought because it was on sale, never worn
- Three copies of the David Bowie sampler that came with the Mail on Sunday in June 2008 (if anybody wants one, by all means gimme a shout)
... Etcetera. My sister occasionally claims I must be part hamster, and I'm starting to think she might be right. |
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| (no subject) |
[Nov. 11th, 2009|06:49 pm] |
| [ | Mood |
| | relaxed | ] |
I've got five days off in a row! Well, four now, as one has already passed. I'm also seeing Prodigy on Saturday. I'm telling you this just so I'll have an extra incentive to not chicken out and stay home. I don't know why I'm being so silly about that - I like going to gigs on my own, once I actually get there at least.
'Sudden and unforeseen expenses' have occurred. Of course! I was nearly broke for a while, but thankfully this is now remedied, to such an extent that I might actually go clothes shopping in the near future. And Christmas gifts shopping, and, and... !
We now have a shower that works! About time, too. The warm water tap in there finally broke last Tuesday (after being nearly broken for the past three years or so) and so we had to shut off the warm water until we got a plumber in on Friday. He had to change the whole thing because the old taps were from the 70s and apparently aren't supported anymore. More sudden and unforeseen expenses (although he hasn't sent a bill yet, so I'm not sure how much it's gonna be), but the joy of having a functioning shower outweighs that.
I'm losing weight, yet I feel flabbier somehow. Will be working on that... once I can be arsed to eat proper food, whenever that will see fit to occur.
My appointments with various branches of the healthcare system are all over the place. I might need to call people and sort that out.
I love this song so much. I'm very fond of the drone-y, sorta MGMT-esque sound that seems to be in vogue currently. |
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| (no subject) |
[Nov. 5th, 2009|02:52 pm] |
| [ | Mood |
| | content | ] |
Taking a break from my whining to give you a list of Random Little Things I Like, an idea I shamelessly stole from angmonster. Here goes:
- Going to bed in clean bedsheets and fresh out of the shower (THE best feeling ever!)
- Sleeping for 15 hours straight on my days off
- Indoor plumbing
- How light my head feels when I've just cut my hair
- Going home from work on Sunday mornings, knowing that I survived the weekend drunks and it's almost two weeks until next time
- Walking the dog at 2AM (must do again soon!)
- Singing along to Paul Anka's Diana with my sister to see who can do the loudest, most over-the-top-enthusiastic rendition (hint: it's not Paul Anka)
- Being outside when it's snowing and pretending the whole world is a snow globe
- The smell of exhaust when it's raining
- Long train rides
- Food made by somebody other than me
- The taste of the glue on envelopes
- Ketchup with my fries (apparently a concept unfamiliar to people in Manchester, I had to make do with just salt the one time I ate at a Burger King there. When I got home and related the sad story to my sister she told me I should have asked for 'sauce'. Huh)
- Two-hour long showers
- Mayonnaise
- Being taller than most of my coworkers (it makes me feel strangely omnipotent, to the extent that I don't even mind when they keep asking me to do things they're too short for)
- Cycling downhill without having to brake
- Walking through dry leaves, dragging my feet
- Being just drunk enough to feel thoroughly, utterly carefree
- Raspberry soda
... I'm on a roll now and could think of tons more, but I've got to go to bed so I'll be able to wake up for work tonight. Have a poll instead!
Poll #1481146 It's that time of year again!
Open to: All, detailed results viewable to: None, participants: 6Who wants a Christmas card? I'm new here/have moved recently/doubt you've had the presence of mind to keep my address, so I'll kindly type it into the box provided: |
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| (no subject) |
[Nov. 3rd, 2009|04:49 pm] |
| [ | Mood |
| |  apathetic | ] |
It's hard to shave your legs when you can't reach your calves or ankles, I've discovered. Eventually I just decided that enough was enough and hoped the doctor's office would be as poorly lit as the bathroom. Then, I realised than I had no clean bras left and also no time to wash any. 'Ah well, I'll take the one I used last' I thought, 'the doctor's just gonna look at my legs anyway.'
... Of course, he turned out to be mostly interested in my shoulders and elbows (fuck them! They have no bearing on my barely being able to walk) and had me take off my t-shirt so he could look at them - he didn't even ask me to remove my jeans, he just pulled up one leg to check if my knee was swollen. Moral of the story: doctors never do what you expect them to. Next time, I guess I'll make sure to wash my hair extra thoroughly in case he suddenly decides to look for signs of psoriasis in my scalp or something.
( Blah, blah, blah... ) |
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| (no subject) |
[Oct. 31st, 2009|04:01 pm] |
| [ | Mood |
| |  confused | ] |
Currently, I have in my possession the following food items:
- Half a kilo of plums
- Half a kilo of grapes
- Two cans of mackerel in tomato sauce
- Two cans of some sorta fish based patè
- A container of beetroot "salad" (basically beetroot and some other things in mayo)
- A (relatively) small bucket of pickled herring
- Half a litre of melon flavoured yoghurt
- One blue cheese
- Five(!) other cheeses (only three different brands though)
- A box of salted crackers
- A bag of müsli
- A jar of orange marmalade
- A lot of mayonnaise
- Two different types of sausages
- A lot of bananas
- Two different types of pickles
- Etc.
These are all things I've accumulated over the past couple of weeks, and most of them are unopened. I love it all, but I really can't see myself getting around to actually eating any of it anytime soon. I just don't have the appetite, despite obviously believing otherwise when grocery-shopping on an empty stomach. My goodness. |
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| (no subject) |
[Oct. 22nd, 2009|03:02 pm] |
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| |  blank | ] |
The exhaustion continues! Yesterday I was to the bathroom exactly once (wait, what do you actually care? Sorry, you guys. I'm telling you mostly for the anecdotal value[?!], I do not intend to bother you with further details from the visit), ate some müsli with milk and a yoghurt and would probably not have bothered with anything else if my sister hadn't taken pity on me and fed me vegetarian pizza and ditto hamburgers. I'm wondering whether it's psychosomatic and I just feel extra shitty because I have a 'reason' to, or if I was/am actually verging on going into a near-coma.
Anyway!
I found $160/almost £100 in change just lying around on the dining table, under some magazines and such. I'm like a squirrel, except I hoard money and not nuts (thank goodness).
I'm working tonight and should have gone to bed long ago, but I need to shower first.
I swear I thought I had something to write about when I started, but evidently I don't. What else is new?
Considering taking the flu vaccine, but I'm not sure how or if it'll interfere with the arthritis.
... This is turning into a rather boring journal on my disease, isn't it. I need input. What do you fine fellows want me to write about? |
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| (no subject) |
[Oct. 16th, 2009|10:33 pm] |
| [ | Mood |
| |  thoughtful | ] |
I've got an appointment with the rheumatologist on Nov 2nd. Hyperventilation commencing shortly.
This guy at work annoys the shit out of me simply by existing and acting dumb. Also because he keeps texting me to ask if I can come in 20 minutes early so he'll catch his bus. (The underground is a perfectly viable, easily available alternative, but he doesn't want to take it for some unfathomable reason.) Dude, what. Fortunately for me, others are annoyed by him as well and are looking to have him removed. Unfortunately, my despisal for him is such that I am overwhelmed by contempt whenever I see somebody that reminds me of him, and as he is a pretty, effeminate gay boy, this makes me feel horribly homophobic and fifty kinds of wrong.
(This rant courtesy of the fact that he texted me again this afternoon, obviously not even bothering to check if I was actually working tonight. Which, y'know, I'm not.)
The new guinea pig seems to be improving steadily. My sister has no intention of keeping it, but then that's what she said about the other one as well - which has now spent pretty much exactly six months with us. Neither of them have got any names yet, so if it stays we're gonna have to refer to them as Guinea Pig 1 and Guinea Pig 2, or Old/Young Guinea Pig, or perhaps Smooth/Curly Guinea Pig... we are sadly unable to agree on suitable names, and the first one has been just 'Guinea Pig' for so long now that we can't really get used to anything else.
I've paid our rent for the rest of 2009, all current bills are paid and I still have more than a regular month's paycheck in my account. There's one more electricity bill this year, in November, as well as one for my study loan, and the broadband bills for Nov and Dec, but that should be pretty much it. This means that, barring any sudden and unforeseen expenses, I can start looking for a place by next paycheck. Also, my sister owes me a bunch of money because I've been paying all our bills directly from my account and she's supposed to reimburse me for her half. Hooray!
I cut my hair yesterday and inadvertently lopped off more than planned. Now I can just barely get it in a ponytail, and one side is longer than the other. Hm.
I joined a labour union (oh, right! Union fees need to get paid each month as well) as a safety measure. I mean, no employer likes employees that go on sick leave for three months plus, which is what I'll have to in case of a hip replacement (are you sick of my blathering about that yet?), but I need my job to be secure. Speaking of which, I also need to find my contract to check if I have one or two months' notice. I have noble intentions of giving my boss as much time as possible to prepare for my disappearing, but I'd also really like to have surgery before (immediately before, preferably - goodbye, dreadful family gatherings!) Christmas - not least, I shall admit, to avoid the shit-ton of senselessly drunk assholes that come crawling out of the woodworks in the holiday season.
... Okay, it turns out that I can't find my contract any of the places I thought it might be, so I might have to scrap nobleness and just let the boss know whenever I've got a date, but hopefully I'll know at least one month in advance.
If it's up to me, I'll be long gone out of here by that time, but things have an unnerving tendency to not ever go as planned here chez the Strands, so who knows. It's a little frustrating having to wait for all the various bits to fall into place, but at least I seem to be moving forward. |
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| (no subject) |
[Oct. 14th, 2009|04:53 pm] |
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| |  sleepy | ] |
Things!
- The dog survived the surgery, but was pretty out of it for a few days. Lately, however, she's been returning more and more to her normal, slightly hyperactive self, to the extent that we now worry that she'll rip her stitches and have her guts fall out.
- My doctor called me on Monday afternoon - after office hours, no less! - waking me from my sleep to inform me that my hemoglobin levels were very low. ("- Do you know what hemoglobin is?" "- Uh, yeah, the red stuff in the blood?" I am just that eloquent when half asleep.) I was ordered to start iron supplements immediately and come back for more bloodwork on Monday. I'm reading about anemia and assorted related subjects now and think I'm gonna mention the possible correlation with Methotrexate and B12/folic acid deficiency - I *know* I am or at least have been lacking in the latter as the MTX destroys it and I only started taking supplements recently-ish.
I hope she has or will be checking the serum transferrin/ferritin as well, though - somebody mentioned hemochromatosis when I was first hospitalised for the arthritis, so I'm a little worried about that. (In fact the belief that I might have that - although surely somebody would've told me if that was the case? - is why I've stupidly avoided iron supplements in the past 12 years or so.) That said, I've got most of the symptoms of iron deficiency anemia, including pica for ice(!) - heck, I've been craving ice near-constantly since I (at my sister's insistance) first tried chewing ice cubes about six years ago, although I would perhaps hesitate to describe it as compulsive.
This totally explains why I am cold all the time. And why sleeping currently (and increasingly) takes priority over practically anything. Coming home from work lately goes something like this:
Food or internet? (Internet!)
*hours later* Huh, maybe I should go to bed. Except that I'm kinda hungry... Food or sleep? (Sleep!)
But wait, maybe I should've been to the bathroom. (No!) Not even to pee? Pee or sleep? (Sleep!)
*hours later, alarm goes off* I really should get up now or I'll be late unless I skip something... Brush my teeth or sleep? (Sleep!)
Etcetera. I R GROSS, y'all.
- My sister's coworkers (at the other of Tommy's two pet shops, not the one I used to work in) are a bunch of useless cunts who literally cannot take care of guinea pigs to save their lives. We (or more correctly my sister, as I'm not really too keen on having much to do with it) now have yet another guinea pig pup in our custody, this too near-dead from scurvy. Fucking hell. They HAVE been reported, this summer, to the relevant authorities, which have not really done anything, since the guinea pigs affected back then were removed. (Tommy took some home(!) and fed them vit C - they are now healthy, astonishingly enough - while the one that got them reported was one they had taken to the vet to be put down because it was so sick. Good on the vet, I say. Scurvy in guinea pigs is SO common, SO horrible for the affected animals and SO SO SO easy to avoid that there's really no excuse, especially when you're working in a pet shop and supposed to KNOW what you're doing.) WTF is wrong with these people?!!
- I have five days off for the first time in like nine weeks. JOY! |
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| (no subject) |
[Oct. 9th, 2009|02:33 pm] |
| [ | Mood |
| |  RAAHHH!! | ] |
The dog's got pyometra (hey look, a link that isn't Wikipedia for once!) and is having surgery about now-ish.
Round here it is uncommon - and in fact illegal - to have dogs spayed or neutered except for medical or behavioral reasons. So pyometra is rather frequent in older dogs - the vet said the surgery was the procedure they did most often on female dogs in the same age group as ours, and only one in 400 or so dies. But I'm worried sick still.
Positive thoughts are much appreciated. |
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| Emo, ergo sum ("I mope, therefore I am") |
[Oct. 7th, 2009|05:10 pm] |
| [ | Mood |
| |  intimidated | ] |
Since I've still not heard back from the rheumatologist, I finally bit the bullet and went to my regular doctor to get a referral. Also got bloodwork done for the first time in, uh, five years? Maybe I should've done that before. The doctor shook her head at me (but didn't berate me like some do, so it was all good). She remained professionally unaffected by my not-so-shaven legs (I was running late, and also hoping I would get a referral without an actual physical examination. Ugh) and heaps upon heaps of varicose veins (I have more of them than most middle-aged women would be able to conjure up the possibility of even in their worst nightmares. Not kidding), but tried to diagnose me with Raynaud's (bollocks! My hands and feet are just regular cold and pale, not blue or painful) and also asked about my family history regarding diabetes, requiring a glucose level test (I'm unsure how useful that would be since I'd eaten three hours previously). Blech. She seemed quite unsettled by the lacking flexibility of my hip joints, so hopefully she'll put 'URGENT' all over the referral and I'll get surgery before I suddenly wake up one evening realising I cannot walk, much less actually, y'know, work.
Now to hope I haven't developed a Giant Liver Failure of Doom in these years... |
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| (no subject) |
[Oct. 3rd, 2009|01:06 pm] |
| [ | Mood |
| |  sore | ] |
I was walking onto the subway train today and looking in an entirely different direction, nobly trying to keep the door for some fellow who looked like he might not reach there in time. I got around to thinking "Hey wait, my foot's not moving, it must've snagged on somethiii--" before suddenly and abruptly encountering the floor.
It was not my greatest moment. The guy I was holding the door for stepped over me, while some woman eerily resembling Ms Trunchbull from the Matilda movie leapt to the rescue.
(Here, I learnt an important lesson that I will urge y'all to remember for possible future use: if you see somebody fall on their face and you're trying to help them get up, please, for the love of all that's holy, do NOT start pulling on their arms until they have at least got up on their knees - unless, of course, you are prepared to take on the weight of their entire upper body and not be thanked for your efforts. As a cripple, I can assure you* that most people are fully capable of getting themselves from a horizontal position to standing on their knees - it's the second part, actually getting on one's feet, that is troublesome - and moreover, that most people also need their arms for support to do just that. Pulling on their arms, while possibly making you feel that you're Doing Something Helpful, is utterly and completely counterproductive at this stage.)
I'd say I was not afflicted other than a bruised ego, but while my ego after years of torment has become impervious to practically anything (Common sense? Criticism? Embarrassment? You got it!), my physical self is actually feeling a little worse for wear. Time for ibuprofen and sleep, me thinks.
*Well, okay, I cannot really speak for others than myself. YMMV. |
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| (no subject) |
[Sep. 22nd, 2009|06:26 pm] |
| [ | Mood |
| | lethargic | ] |
Not-so-dear self,
A couple things you might want to take note of:
- This is not the time of the month when you have any excuse to act like you're Holden Caulfield's female incarnation
- Green Day lyrics are not deep or meaningful. Seriously
- Have you taken your vitamins lately?
- ... That's what I thought. Then DO IT, FFS
- Stop whining and get yourself a decent meal
- Immediately thereafter, go to sleep damnit
- ... and stay off t'internet until you have something vaguely useful to post about k thx
No love,
Your poor battered common sense |
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| (no subject) |
[Sep. 16th, 2009|07:56 pm] |
| [ | Mood |
| | blah | ] |
Working as much as I'm doing currently is quite helpful in that it leaves no time for brooding - but of course, once I have a couple days off, the crash is proportionally harder.
I have been up since 5 AM (I dreamt that the shower drain was clogged again, yet my mother had turned the water on and it was spraying all over the bathroom, and then the plumber arrived right while I was showering. Most unsettling) and have done sod all, except paying one bill and eating a bag and a half(!) of chips and some fruit. I seem to have lost some weight, however (although I'm not sure exactly how much, as I weighed on an empty stomach, which I usually try to avoid), so it's not all bad.
I haven't heard back from my rheumatologist yet and it's been nearly two and a half weeks since I sent the letter. And over a month already since my birthday! I want time to slow down a little... or perhaps not; I'm not exactly grieving that the workdays pass quickly, I'd just like fewer of them.
On Saturday, arriving at work, I nearly stumbled over a huge cardboard box full of DVDs situated right inside the door in front of the stairs. Christine peeked in after me. "Are you strong?" she asked.
- ... Uhh, I replied hesitatingly.
- 'Cause Maria [assistant store manager w/superior attitude and anger management issues] was gonna haul it upstairs to the office, but just left it there, and I couldn't lift it.
I looked sceptically at the box.
- Or you can just leave it there, she continued, seeing my doubt. "I mean, Maria couldn't lift it either, and she's been in the Army - she's probably tougher than either of us. She can deal with it tomorrow," she finished, pulling out of the door again as a customer arrived.
That was probably the smartest thing she could have said. I couldn't let that pass, could I? I placed my hobo-esque plastic bag (containing my work shirt and assorted other belongings) on top of the (ridiculously flimsy for its size) box, tipped it so one end rested on the bottom step of the stairs, got a good grip around it and carried the motherfucker up the stairs and into the office. And then I felt ridiculously accomplished (even though it wasn't really heavy - 10-ish kg, if that, but admittedly very unstable and therefore hard to get a proper hold of). |
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| (no subject) |
[Sep. 10th, 2009|05:07 am] |
| [ | Mood |
| |  enraged | ] |
Dear family,
Although I understand that it is somewhat unusual for me to receive correspondence that is not bills, and I also understand that you are greatly mystified when I get postcards from people you do not know, I see absolutely no reason for you to place such communication at the very bottom of the month-old stack of otherwise business-related letters on my table. That stack is my 'Out' file; the bunch of payment receipts, paid(!) bills, paychecks, bank statements; all the things that I've finished dealing with and that are just waiting to get filed properly. I know you know this, bitches (for one, you'd never put a bill there). Placing new, unread correspondence at the bottom - as if this would somehow make me believe that I had received and read it weeks ago and just magically forgotten - is perhaps a trifle above downright stealing my mail, as at least one of you have resorted to in the past, but still pretty fucking low, if you ask me. (Here, a less composed person than myself would be tearing their hair out, stomping their feet and hyperventilating whilst shrieking hysterically through clenched teeth "WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOUUUUU?!!" I know, cos I'm doing all of this inwardly.)
Seriously, you are both more than eager to get me the bills as soon as they arrive. Why are postcards any different? More importantly, what else are you keeping from me, and on which criteria do you base your judgement as to whether or not my mail is suitable for me to receive? I ask again; WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU?!
Yours MY FUCKING OWN, seething with unholy rage,
jasmin_sane
To the lovely person on my friends list who sent me an absolutely adorable postcard of 'Springtime in a Japanese train station,' I am sorry to not have acknowledged receipt of your card sooner, but I am in fact not even quite sure exactly when it arrived due to reasons outlined above. |
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| (no subject) |
[Sep. 8th, 2009|06:57 pm] |
| [ | Mood |
| | exhausted | ] |
Apparently I was counting my chickens too soon (or however that proverb goes). My darling coworker Daniel is now on extended sick leave until Oct. 6th at the earliest. This time I've been asked to work "only" five nights a week, though. (Yay?)
Words cannot express how sick I am of this. The boss said to just "let [him] know" if I wanted more days off, but there are exactly two people (the store manager and shift manager-turned-assistant store manager, to be precise) that conceivably might be able to take on a couple of night shifts each, but they are both really busy during the day and would be highly inconvenienced if I'd asked them to take more than the two nights a week I've got off.
So. At least five more weekends. In a row.
(I'm feeling like such a wuss, whining about five-day weeks when that's what normal people work, and six-day weeks when that's how much people actually used to work back in ye olden days. But there you are.)
Last night on my way to work I saw a man with a septum piercing wearing a Utilikilt and carrying a ukulele. I've probably been reading too much DTWOF, because I almost felt like applauding him, but then I remembered that all bearded Utilikilt-wearers aren't necessarily gender conscious hippy feminists. (Although, if they were the über-macho type then why would they want to wear a garment that might so easily be interpreted as feminine?)
Anticimex put up horrid sticky traps under our shelves. The rat(/s?) have dragged a huge piece of cardboard (from where, I do not know) with it/them and laid it out over the traps, thereby avoiding getting stuck while still able to run around in there. Apparently Anticimex had discovered this clever manoeuvre during their latest visit.
While I'm not fond of the rat/s for sanitary reasons, I *did* laugh out loud when the store manager told me. AWESOME. |
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