It’s a beautiful day in the neighborhood and a beautiful day for leaving the gate open for Sabra to go turd hunting first thing in the morning. TODD.
Lawn mowing competition is ramping up.
I got a refund for the field trip V never got to go on, and promptly misplaced the check.
She finally came home for the first time since mid-March. It was the most pleasant and mood-free week I’ve ever had.
Don’t ever, not ever, watch Purple Rain with your kid. I realized that I should never watch it with anyone. Kind of like pleasuring oneself – should be done alone and in a dark room.
Todd asked me when he can have “some” of his t-shirts back. When you exhaust all 85 t-shirts, that’s when.
Silverfox is back at it on Facebook. Smart man, very slow to learn lessons. Or, perhaps, he’s all out of fucks to give.
They’re now hoarding Feminine supplies.
Facebook pissing match #1 – masks are stupid, a violation of her rights (but she’ll wear one), and she purposely goes the wrong way in the grocery store because she doesn’t care. Taking a page from the Silverfox playbook, I called her a selfish asshole. I have not been kicked out of the group. Yet.
Facebook pissing match #2 – this a “minor virus.” I absolutely HATE the level of dumb in some people. I pulled rank, so to speak, as a healthcare worker who knows differently. To which he responded, both his parents had it and recovered. What could I say? I’m glad your parents are better. Unfortunately, not everyone gets that lucky.
Stop listening to the news if you want to stay sane.
“Poke-the-Bear” is a fun Facebook game whereby one trolls friends by posting inflammatory things just to piss them off. A friend of mine is deeply dedicated to this delightfully diabolical game, promising a “Poke-the-bear, deluxe version” in the near future. Highly entertaining. Recommend with wine and popcorn.
One can never be too confident. I went into the bathroom in the middle of the night without turning the light on and nearly fell into the toilet because the seat was up.
Speaking of raised toilet seats, Neph went MIA. The “this is not a working number” message is quite disturbing. I’m not exactly worried, but it would be nice for him to check in. Consider this post your SOS, Neph. (Update – he has called.)
To melt some of the new flab off, a sure bet (for me) is to quit drinking. I know, I know… taking bets on how long I’ll last? Don’t bother, because WORK YESTERDAY.
Our entire system was down when we arrived at work. No computers, no phones, no fax, and the front door wouldn’t unlock. Thanks to Pedro, one of the IT guys, we were back online by 8:30, but it was a stressful 45 minutes trying to obtain a printed copy of the day’s schedule. And then the next several hours we were in a receptionist’s version of Mario Cart.
Scheduling video visits, aka telemedicine, is the second bane of my existence. And, eleven weeks into this jolly good time we’re all having, people are slowly beginning to snap.
I spent two days and a grand total of 40 minutes on the phone with ONE family, trying to get them connected to the portal for a televisit. Dad was not having it. He told me Monday, after 20 minutes on the phone and repeatedly telling the grandmother that “this is bullshit,” to call him back the next day after 5. I told him HE could call ME when it’s convenient for HIM.
And so yesterday was another clusterfuck of a phone call that began with Grandmom, who handed dad the phone and soon he’s losing his shit because he can’t figure out how to get the app running on his iPhone. He’s rudely impatient and bitching at me about how it’s ridiculous and how he can’t ever make this stuff work, blah blah blah… to which I responded, I know, I totally get it, I am so not technical and I usually leave that kind of stuff for my husband but here I am on the phone trying to help people and I am NO Help Desk. I’M frustrated too!
Refusing to let him shake me, I just kept taking deep breaths while Barb, my coworker, laughed her ass off because she knew exactly who I was talking to (this had been going on for two days with them). At some point Grandmom got back on and tried to load it to her laptop instead, and he’s in the background cursing and she just kept talking like this happens all the time. “Please stop swearing, she can hear you, you know,” and “really, [Son] just calm down. Oh my God.” And by this time I’m crying and Barb is still cackling over in her corner. At some point I just started laughing – out loud – with Grandmom because OMG. That son of hers. I told her to tell [Son] not to throw his phone. And we both laughed. Normally I would not be so familiar with people but we spent so much time on the phone I almost think they owe me lunch.
Best not to weigh oneself daily. In a bid for winning the great big F-YOU race, I did 45 minutes on the treadmill on an empty stomach, sweat my balls off, and when I weighed in I was a half-pound heavier than when I woke up. Bastards.
Work is an ever-changing landscape. Just about the time you adapt, BAM! But, JOB.
Meanwhile, has anyone else considered how many masks they’ll need to coordinate with their outfits? One for this dress, one for that top, one for workouts, one for church? I’m shopping fabrics, ya’ll.
I have 6,999 steps on my phone right now and I don’t want to get up. The number looks so pretty on my home screen, and the next number is even more special but we all know I’m not going to take just ONE step, so it’ll be ruined. Paralyzed with indecision.