2009 -- The year of not giving a damn

Yes dear readers, it IS a Pigs in Space lunchbox! My co-workers are going to be pea-green with envy in the new year! AND it has a thermos. Thank God I am working on Saturday to be able to show it off. I mean if I had a "noncorporate job" then I would have four days off, and would have to wait until MONDAY to show it off.

Speaking of work...apparently our "insurance company" decided that my surgeon did not know what he was talking about and that I did not need physical therapy and canceled my last four sessions. So I went "three sessions over" since they did not bother to tell me, or anyone else. I honestly did not know that an out of state insurance company could over-ride a surgeon. my bad. LOL

I am really looking forward to the new year. It is the year of "not giving a damn." Now, that is not as bad as it sounds...it is really quite positive. (Or in my politically correct work world -- it is the year of "no longer caring." Instead of bottling up everything, when I am bothered by something I will reply "No longer caring" or "Don't give a Damn."

For example:
Big VP Boss Dude "IF you come in an hour early, and stay and hour late AND come in on Sundays (for only an hour) then "the company" could make an extra $17.12. Don't you think that will look good on your review.

Reply: No longer caring. My review is already in the toilet because we did so well the past two years, there was no room for improvement and therefore we all flatlined.

See - perfect. They can't fire me (cough - cloak of disability - cough) and, quite frankly, I really do no longer care.

I like my life away from work. I love my house. I love walking the roommates dog and snuggling with the cats. I love being able to come home and have the energy to do things. Working 12 hour days (plus commuting) is not worth it if the bottom line does not change. No one is impressed by it, and I am no longer trying to impress anyone. I will never be promoted, and all of the ass-kissing and overtime will not change that fact.

I know the economy is bad. I know jobs are scarce. However -- my life is valuable. I do not believe in working 7 days a week. I do not believe in checking work emails on holidays, and I do not believe in expecting those "beneath" me in the organization should either. The willingness to work yourself to death is not a trait that I value.

I am going to enjoy 2009. I am going to take charge again. I seem to have lost myself along the way. I am looking forward to finding out what the hell happened to me :-)

Need I say it again??? PIGS IN SPACE LUNCHBOX!!! I rule!

Sweet smell of success

I am feeling much better. My Dr. has limited my work hours to eight hours a day (down from 10-12) and I am beginning to feel my sanity slowly creep back. Post surgery I am scared to death of reinjuring myself, and I am slowing losing that panicy feeling.
I think my problem is two fold -- lack of sleep and too much work. I generally have to be at work at 6:30 a.m. This time of year we can work from 530 to 530. (Which means getting up at 430 and going to bed at 9). I do not sleep well as it is, and put physical therapy on top of it all, and you get neurotic me. Now that I am back to a strict schedule, I am no longer wanting to cry all day at work.
I am still looking for another job. Primarily because my limited schedule will end by the end of January, and I know I will not retire at this company.
On a strange other note...I have made two odd purchases in the last three days. Two expensive parfumes. I do get them discounted, but ended up getting better deals on ebay. Anyone who knows me knows that I rarely wear makeup, and am a t-shirt and jeans kind of person. I do, however, spend a crap load on Chanel parfumes. I will be the best smelling patient in the looney bin.

BRRRRRRRRR!

So yeah. I went back to work today. I promptly came home and applied to every job listed in my area. I almost cried at work today. Me, the woman without a soul, almost broke down into tears out of frustration and stress.
I wanted to lock myself the in bathroom and cry. I was tempted to just walk away and never return. I can not do this anymore. I get up at 5:20ish. Get ready, leave at 6ish and work from 630 to 4, get home around 4:30, five days a week and now they want to add Saturdays. I am salaried, and if they do that, I will be making less than the people I manage who opt out of the overtime.
I wish I could afford to quit.
AND it was soooo cold in the office (why waste money on heat) and I spent the entire day trying to type wearing gloves.
Fortune 5oo my ass.

Light duty

So I am going back to work tomorrow. My roommates dog will be heartbroken! She has grown used to having me keep her company all morning, and she was used as my walking "therapy" dog after my surgery. She hates when someone leaves (without her) and ends up sulking on their bed until they come home.

I have mixed feeling about going back to work. My job is boring, and a bad "fit" but I am learning to be grateful for having it. Deep down I hope that they keep our facility open, but with one of our main suppliers filing Chapter 11, everything is unknown. I am going to give myself six months to get out or give in.

It seems like everything falls apart at once. In the past month the following has broken down in my house:

TV (Totally dead and no one does repair anymore)
Kitchen sink (Clogged on one side and will not drain)
Dryer (Makes a terrible sound when it is first turned on)
Record player (weird sounding)

Everything will have to wait until the new year. Which is fine. As long as nothing else goes kaupt I will survive :-)

To make things a bit worse -- my "former crush turned just wants to be a f@ck buddy" is acting like an annoying 8th grader. I am a grown woman (and he is also in his 30s) -- I do not need you to text me on a Sunday morning to see if I want to come over to his Moms house and "make out." I mean -- if that is his move I am glad he is a former crush.

Off to cuddle with my the cats and go to bed.

All I want for Christmas is Botox

I have a 20 year old male roommate. He does look young, but he is over 6' tall and looks (to me) 20.

We went grocery shopping last night, and he dropped his glasses off for a quick repair at the shop next door to S@few@y. We shop and then we stopped by to get his repaired glasses.

We are standing next to each other, and the repairman is talking about the repair and the final cost. Roomy sits down (for the final adjustment) and the repairman gets up, walks toward me as says...

"He has a lot of wear and tear on these frames, you may want to look into budgeting for a new pair for him."

Me staring at him wondering why he is telling me this.

And

Then

It

Hits

Me

He thinks I am his Mother. AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

To make it worse, when we get in the car, roomie says to me

"You could have gotten pregnant at 16 and had me at 17. I mean that happens all the time."

Kill me now or give me botox.