In which it was totally worth $44 because I feel better.

This morning I decided that my dog was acting a little off and maybe running a temperature, so I took her to the vet.

They took her temperature (totally normal) and interviewed me about her behavior (she’s eating and drinking and eliminating) and poked and prodded her tummy (no pain response) and said she’s fine. If she pukes I’m supposed to bring her in for X-rays, but other than that she’s in fine shape for an old girl.

Which means that your narrator is a dork with an over-developed panic response. I now think that I was vibing so weird that I made my dog act weird. Can I get a witness?

*crawls back under her rock*

In which I’m feeling the effects of mind over matter.

God, I feel like ten pounds of shit in a five pound bag.

This morning I got up, showered, dressed, and then sat at the table and ate a BLT with fake bacon. It was delicious.

When I finished eating, I pulled a bunch of stuff out of the fridge and started packing my lunch for the day. The window showed a clear day with blue skies, and the thermometer was at eighty degrees.

Bindu puked on the living room rug. G’ma called her – with the intention of letting her go outside to finish – and she came across the house to the back door, hunched over and clearly not feeling well.

As we approached her to let her out, she started scrambling on the linoleum as if on ice, and then bailed into G’ma’s bedroom. Panic hormones EXPLODED in my body. I followed her in, she was in distress. I called her name, approached her, she fell over, panting.

I petted her: she was breathing and had a steady heart beat ohgodohgodohthankGod but I thought her tongue looked white. G’ma asked if we needed to go to the vet. I said yes and broke for the kitchen to throw my food back into the fridge while G’ma dressed.

By the time G’ma stood with her keys in her hand, Bindu seemed fine. I cleaned up the puddle on the living room rug: she’d puked up a feminine hygiene pad. I don’t know where she got it; I don’t know if it came out of our own garbage or if she found it somewhere else. (We live on an alley full of garbage cans, and she’s a crafty old blue bitch.)

She continued to seem fine. I texted Teh BF for a ride to work, he said he’d swing by and pick us up. I gathered my things for work, then walked Bindu down the alley. She wiggled, she peed, she pooped, she sniffed things.

We waited on the porch for our ride. My whole physiology was a mess: my skin hurt and I was way beyond stressed out, but the dog seemed fine. Frisky, even.

At work, Bindu produced two more puddles of dog puke that I had to clean up with paper towels while on the phone teching a DSL customer. I poured myself a huge glass of water (on the theory that it would help me flush out the stress hormones) but I have only managed to drink half of it.

Right now, Bindu’s lying on the floor near my desk and seems perfectly normal. On the other hand, I feel nearly sick from fear and worry.

I know that nothing has happened to me that isn’t purely intellectual, but I feel freaking awful. My body literally aches. I keep watching her and thinking her behavior is off even though I can see that it’s not. I’m so stressed that the A/C has me shivering. It’s stupid.

I can’t even decide if I should call the vet. KJ thinks she seems fine, she’s acting like she always does, and I can’t even count the number of pads she’s eaten and puked up in her life… If I call, they’ll probably tell me to bring her in for observation or at least blood work and she really doesn’t look like she needs it.

In other words, my dog puked and now I’m having a panic attack because I’m a freak.

Ugh. I’m broken. My kingdom for a nap!

In which my life looks better on the Internet than it does in real life.

I’m one of what’s called a “skeleton crew” of three people in the office today consisting of myself in tech support (and reception and billing) and two guys in the sales queue. All of management gets the day off paid, of course, and the receptionist does too. I get to work it because I got New Year’s day off (and so will hopefully get the next holiday off paid). The holiday schedule is rotating… if you count my working every single holiday save one in 20 months ‘rotating.’

Being the only person in three queues means that this is the busiest I’ve been in weeks. It’s rather nice. Of course it’s not so busy I don’t have time to write, but the pace has been pretty steady so far: I’ve completed 34 calls and have been on the phone for 3 of the 5 hours I’ve been here.

I’m trying to maintain a good attitude but I still expect to get laid off any minute. I applied at the local temp agency a couple of weeks ago, just to feel pro-active about something. They called me last week and said they had absolutely no work.

I’m sitting under a blast of arctic, frozen air. I’m wearing a fleece vest with the collar up and fuzzy socks and I’m still freezing. The vent above my head is taped shut so I can’t really figure out where the air is coming from, but I do know that the building’s had its interior walls moved several times with no HVAC redesign so it’s to be expected that there are hot and cold spots… I just wish I wasn’t always sitting in a cold spot. It’s not warm enough outside today to warrant this kind of relentless A/C.

Bindu got her first bath in almost two years Saturday. The water sluicing off that dog and down the drain was a pretty foul color, and I felt kinda bad about it. But I got her all shampooed and rinsed and toweled off and combed and now she’s a walking plush toy, so soft and fluffy. Her undercoat is blowing out much more easily now and I think she’s more comfortable.

Next I’m going to take her in for her annual checkup and, if she’s healthy enough for anesthesia, get her teeth cleaned. She’ll hate that, but her teeth have never been cleaned and they’re a mess. I brushed them Saturday (chicken flavored toothpaste!) and scratched a bunch of calculus off one of her teeth with my thumbnail. Her gums can’t be at all happy.

Last night Teh BF and I had a BBQ on my brother’s patio. The guys had bacon cheddar burgers (and Teh BF geeked out taking this pic so heavily that I threatened to tell the Intarwebz that he was making O noises over a freakin’ plate of food) and I had a grilled portabella on a bun. Afterward, he and I went and watched Star Trek in my room. It was awesome and I’m not ashamed to say so! I thought it was a really charming addition to the goofiest sci-fi franchise ever. Action packed! It was like Star Trek meets Star Wars meets Doctor Who meets Indiana Jones: everything I like, all rolled into one silly big-budget sci-fi romp. Boom!

Finally got tickets for Dallas purchased. Ended up they were $70 each more than the original ones by the time it was all said and done, but we’re still going to DFW and back through Pasco for less than $400 each so I’ll consider it a win.

In other news, my nails look fantastic.

In which I describe one of my many neurosis: the one where I’m some kind of anti-social biatch.

I’m such a Libra.

I have some kind of internal device – yes, very much like a scale, thank you – which constantly weighs my external perception of others’ happiness against my internal comfort level. If the people on the outside appear to be more comfortable than I am uncomfortable on the inside, I just go with the flow.

I assume that people say and do what they want (even though apparently I don’t, myself) and I spend way too much time doing what I think my S.O. wants until one day I wake up and hate his guts because I didn’t get my own needs met.

Lately, I spend virtually all of my non-work time with Teh BF, doing essentially nothing, because he seems to want to hang out more than I don’t want to.

It’s a non-issue, really, until I spend some unscheduled time alone (like I did last Tuesday night, when Teh BF was home sick) and suddenly realize that I can’t remember the last time I spent some unscheduled time alone.

Tuesday night I was home from work by 7:15. It was still full daylight out. I sat on the porch and read for awhile (!!!), and then I went upstairs into my newly rearranged room (!!!) and hung out with my dog and watched five episodes of 30 Rock on Hulu (!!!) and started a knitting project (!!!).

It was ineffably awesome.

My schedule has turned into one in which I spend 40 hours a week at work, sleep and bathe at home, and spend the rest of my time with Teh BF. We either go out and drink or we go to his place and watch TV. I don’t get my laundry done, or pluck my eyebrows, or clean my room or knit or build that website AmmZon needs or clean the bathroom or hand-wash my delicates or vacuum, and I’m perpetually behind on all the little things people need to get done in their lives.

I spend a bunch of time with Teh BF because that’s what we’re in the habit of doing. Whether we want to or not.

Continue reading It's not you, it's me. →

In which a list format shall suffice.

1. I’ve decided to see Amma in Dallas this year.

I chose Dallas on NLW’s recommendation because I’ve never been to Dallas, and the programs are allegedly smaller and more intimate than those in Chicago. Don’t want to go to Iowa and be divided; when we go there it will be specifically to hang in Fairfield and see everybody.

2. I do not have hamthrax.

…YET.

The aporkalypse/baconic plague/epigdemic won’t actually get here until the migrant workers show up for spring planting, so if you love me you should send me gifts NOW as my time left on earth is undoubtedly quite short!

3. Got laid! Quite fantastically well, thank you.

OMG. You have no idea. I’m so spoiled.

4. I have three in-progress swaps going with people I’ve met on Flickr.

I’m trading an Argus, a tele lens, and two rolls of film for a Polaroid SX-70 and two C4 lenses. I’m making a pair of slippers in return for a custom bag and some random surprise stuff. And I’m sending cheese to Japan in exchange for moar bento stuff.

VERY exciting!

5. Goblinbox still gets massive traffic, but hardly anyone ever comments any more.

I’ve been waiting to post because I was hoping I’d get more than one comment on my last post. (Thank you, Shenry.) Does this mean my content’s as boring as I think it is?

Don’t answer that.

Maybe I should have another surgery or get divorced again or something. How about a car wreck? Suggestions? Shall I describe what Teh BF can do with his left hand?

6. I love payday.

I was down to fewer than ten bucks when my check arrived. I have no idea what I spent all my money on, but it couldn’t be classic cameras and classic camera accessories or film or developing so don’t even bring it up.

7. This chilly, crappy weather has me afraid that we’re going to go straight from 50 degrees to 110 degrees overnight, and that the summer will be unbearable.

The whole point of living here – besides the awesome Mexican food, of course – is the mild weather. I want my money back!

8. Being 40 sucks.

It doesn’t matter what I do, I’m just getting thicker Every. Single. Goddamned. Day. I look like I’m three months along and I have BACK FAT, and I’m actually consciously NOT overeating and I’m walking to work every single day.

Diet and exercise my ass: they mean Nazi self-discipline. I’m sick of being pudgy, yeah, but not enough to deny myself everything I enjoy. This is exactly what Cosmo was talking about.

9. My dentist is too expensive.

I need to go in for prophy again – my mouth is like a coral reef, swear to God – but I still owe the bastard five or six hundred bucks. So I’m not going. Which will only hurt me in the long run, but I go every three months and can’t get it paid off before my next appointment so the balance keeps growing.

Plus I have some soft spots on a molar that apparently need to be filled before they turn into cavities and they nag me about that.

Any locals have a CHEAP dentist?

I totally would get my teeth bleached if I could afford it. Is that vain?

10. In spite of reassurances, I still feel shaky about my job security.

Customer and incoming call counts are dropping weekly. I know enough about business in general to be certain there’s no way the company I work for is bringing in enough to pay its bills.

I’d go into detail, but a couple members of management read my blog and follow my tweets, so they know absolutely everything I ever say about work (which is why I say nothing that isn’t utterly innocuous). The general manager actually IMed me one day after reading a post I’d written to tell me that my job wasn’t actually in any immediate danger, which was really sweet, but I can still do basic math.

This week, we were told that we’re only on the phones on average of two hours a day, and that we need to be documenting what we’re doing the rest of the time. A list of free time activities were provided by my department head, but hello? I already do all of those things and there still isn’t enough work (because yes, I’m that overachieving bitch of an employee you hate who does more than strictly necessary and still has time to surf half the entire ‘net every day).

My hope is that when air conditioning season arrives my work load will return to normal, but I ain’t holding my breath. The load has been dropping smoothly since I started here eighteen months ago, as evidenced by my schedule: I was hired to close, so when I started I worked 12-9. Less than a year later they moved me to an 11-8 schedule because there weren’t enough calls, and just this week I’ve been moved again, this time t 10-7. Last night I took maybe three calls from six to seven. Hello, recession!

It’s not like this is a ‘real’ job, in the sense that I don’t make any money, don’t have a title, manage no one, and am basically being a lazy toad so I don’t have to get up early, shave my legs, or wear uncomfortable shoes. You’d think by now I’d have a career but noo-o-o-o: I decided to get married and drop to part-time so I could WASH SOME GUY’S FUCKING SOCKS and like an idiot I never got any certifications back when someone else would probably have paid for them, so the odds of my ever becoming an Internet engineer again are, like, zip… especially here. (This company isn’t an ISP, it’s a reseller. The “vault” here is basically empty.)

The point being that if I wanted to do a lateral transfer, I might as well just stay here until the business either fails or doesn’t and quit fucking worrying about it.

In which I cover four topics of interest only to myself.

Topic the first is: TEH SECKS.

Teh BF’s work schedule was changed about a month ago. Instead of having to be at work at different times each day (he used to start at 10, 10, 11, 11, and then 9 each week), now he gets to show up at the same time – nine AM – all 5 days. It’s probably much easier on him to have a regular schedule.

The bummer is that we only sleep over one night a week now, instead of three or sometimes four. So the nookie schedule? Is suffering.

I just wanted to bitch about that a little. Waah!

Topic the second is: WERK.

In the eighteen months I’ve worked here, I’ve sat in five different places. (The office contains about as many cubic feet as a semi trailer, so there’s really no good reason to be moving around quite so much other than it makes us all feel like we’ve done something tangible, a useful sensation when all you do is push pixels all day.) Monday morning when I rolled in, management stood about four feet from my desk with one of the sales staffers and discussed how best to make him comfortable… in my space!

WTF! I had to wait for a guy to QUIT before I got that space! I was at the end of a hall and had my Christmas lights up and my very own lamp (I bought it myself) and my dog’s blanket and it was awesome, and then right out of the gate on a Monday morning they go and give it to a sales dude?!?!

Talk about being smokin’ pissed off! But valiantly, I adjusted. And quickly, without cursing or quitting!

Long story short, they let me keep my desk instead of making me take one of those cool-looking but useless microwave carts, and did NOT put me under the skylight and did NOT put me where any old walk-in customer can make eye contact with me. (Reception? Doesn’t, most of the time. If you’re sitting where people can see you, you end up having to deal with walk-ins yourself because they give you these piteous “I’ve been standing here for six minutes I just need to make my payment and I’m on my lunch hour and can you please help me?” looks and what are you going to do? Ignore a real live human being making puppy eyes at you? No. You’re gonna go do someone else’s job and hope there’s a good damned reason for it.)

“You can’t fix stupid!”

Anyway! All four support technicians are now in a cute little enclosure together where no one can bother us and we can actually communicate with one another.

Our official tech area whiteboard says, “You can’t fix stupid!” Which is so true, because you totally can’t.

I like it a lot, actually. It’s pretty awesome to be in a tech department instead of in the middle of a sales department. I hate sales.

(Honestly, I would really like to be able to go RIGHT THE HELL OFF on work, but since half the office reads the ‘box I can’t. Which sucks, because bitching about work is really one of the main reasons to have a blog in the first place. If I could only tell you. Srsly. OMG. The hysterically funny posts I could write… this place is a total sit-com. They’d get me fired, but at least you’d get to pee your pants first.)

Topic the third is: TEH WEEKEND!

Tomorrow evening, on my brother’s patio, we’re having a BBQ. True story!

It will be held in honor of both James’ new apartment (he’s been there a month) and KJ’s birthday (which was last weekend). KJ’s gonna cook FODA on his grill, and Lannie and I are somehow going to produce a cake and some side dishes and get the patio swept and the table clean enough to serve food off of. [Yeah, so it’s a prepositional phrase. Whatever.]

I’ve invited everyone I know in the area, which is about twelve people (half of which I’m related to. I need to make more friends). Come on by!

And tomorrow morning I’m gonna give Bindu her first bath in two years. She’s going to HATE it.

Topic the fourth is: …Um, I can’t think of one now.

I’m blogging in between calls at work, and all my work tools went down for 20 minutes due to a server crash (the admin had to abandon his Friday evening and go swap drives around in the data center vault) so I was a little frazzled there for a bit. Now I’ve come back and totally forgotten what I was going to write. I’m sure it wasn’t that interesting anyway.

In lieu of real content, I’ll tell you this: if you read the Temeraire series, be it known that there’s another one out called Empire of Ivory. I’ve got it on my iPod right now! Yay!

Have a fantastically lovely weekend, my babies! I hope the weather is lovely for you, wherever you are.