Aural Stimuli: shhhh! nothing ...
Oral Stimuli: the nightly usual, no evil chocolate chip PopTarts
I Hate: being unable to carry a Girl-Child anymore

Oh. Whoops. It could be that I've over-done it here.

I'm all re-hired back at SBux and I got my schedule for there and part of my schedule for the picture job and my oh my. I told them both I couldn't work on Sundays (because of ... church ...yes, that's it! Church!) because I knew if I didn't arrange for a day off then I wouldn't get one. Damned good thing. But the flippin' picture joint scheduled a mandatory staff meeting for Sunday morning, since it was really the only time available. Let's just say, for the next week or so; I'll be at work. That's it. Work. Nothing else. Just work. I go to one job at 11 and have an hour break between 3 and 4 and then I'm at the other job until 9:30 or 10. This is a harsh schedule. Makes me nervous.

Yeh, there are a couple of days in there where I only have to work one job, but hell ... it's still going to work.

Shit! Listen to me whine!? I could swear I was just bitching about being unemployed. I'm such an ingrate; I really am. Both my old managers re-hired me. That's pretty damned decent of them. (right, OK; I am sleeping with one of them, but that doesn't guarantee anything)

I will stop this whining immediately.

I managed to slow my mad spending spree of late; only bought "practical" things today. Like new slippers to match the leopard jammies and because honestly my old ones were prettty ucky. And a watch. A WATCH, for goodness sakes! How practical is that? And it was on sale. And it has this rectangular face and a black and white striped band and its so cutely deco. I am simultaneously attracted to and yet repulsed by the t-shirts, sweaters, hoodies, purses and everything else that has the 'initial' on it. Its so "Laverne and Shirley," only I can't decide if that's good or bad. Is it just me?

But anyway ...

The girl-child had an "I-miss-my-Nana" meltdown earlier, (yes, my Sainted Mother went out, can you believe it?) and after 3 trips up to her room; the first very sympathetic, the 2nd a bit more brusque, the 3rd one was totally non-compassionate; I gave up and put her in my bed. Only now, there she is, asleep in my bed and I'm a bit tired myself and I cannot begin to haul her up the stairs with my small body. She's big now, you know? No, I do not know how that happened. I shouldn't think about this, not right now. And sleep with her? Oh hell no! The Girl-Child is a thrasher. She's deadly. Forget that.

There's always my buddy, Mr Couch.

�

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