Well, this is going to come out like a pile of whiny wank, I'm sure, but I think I just need to get it off my chest. Here goes:
I've been so unbelieveably busy at work lately. On top of the stress of my several projects, there is the matter of my boss, his terrible lack of smanagement skills, my intense dislike for the way he runs this show, and the fact that me and two co-workers have the task of writing up his employee evaluation. We've had three meetings about it so far, and each time me end up bitching bitterly about the lack of perks to working for him.
That said, he's not all bad a guy. It's just difficult to find what's good about [BOLD]working{/BOLD] with him.
In the evenings after work, I have been packing up the homestead, trying to sort through belongings to find out what can be discarded/sold/donated, all while avoiding the Kitty World War III which is currently taking place between my cats and the two we're babysitting. Steve has not been very helpful with the packing, I must say. Of course, it's been so insanely humid, I sort of don't blame him for wanting to stay as still as possible. I just wish he'd lend a hand, since I have both the magazine and the [godamnfuckingstupidshittybitchcocksucking] DCB website to bust tail on. Ung.
This, of course leaves me with no time whatsoever to work on the sewing/stencils/furniture refinishing that I desperately want to get done. Which is fine; I can live without practicing a hobby for a while, and even if I had enough time to squeeze it in, it wouldn't be as fun as if it were at my lesiure.
Wait. It gets worse. Oh yes, the whining continues.
I am in debt, sorely, pathetically in debt. (I am kicking myself for extravagant purchases made over the weekend, oh yes indeed.) I am so far in debt that I have $0.35 to last me until Thursday, when I get to hand my (pitiful, since my vacation time is not paid) paycheque over to creditors and utility companies. Of course, my entire paycheque couldn't cover those things when I recieve a full two weeks' pay, so I don't even see why I mention it. My credit card is nearing maximum capacity. The government want to ream me for a few grand. I am considering jumping off a bridge. (Stunts for cash!!!)
I've been so unbelieveably busy at work lately. On top of the stress of my several projects, there is the matter of my boss, his terrible lack of smanagement skills, my intense dislike for the way he runs this show, and the fact that me and two co-workers have the task of writing up his employee evaluation. We've had three meetings about it so far, and each time me end up bitching bitterly about the lack of perks to working for him.
That said, he's not all bad a guy. It's just difficult to find what's good about [BOLD]working{/BOLD] with him.
In the evenings after work, I have been packing up the homestead, trying to sort through belongings to find out what can be discarded/sold/donated, all while avoiding the Kitty World War III which is currently taking place between my cats and the two we're babysitting. Steve has not been very helpful with the packing, I must say. Of course, it's been so insanely humid, I sort of don't blame him for wanting to stay as still as possible. I just wish he'd lend a hand, since I have both the magazine and the [godamnfuckingstupidshittybitchcocksucking] DCB website to bust tail on. Ung.
This, of course leaves me with no time whatsoever to work on the sewing/stencils/furniture refinishing that I desperately want to get done. Which is fine; I can live without practicing a hobby for a while, and even if I had enough time to squeeze it in, it wouldn't be as fun as if it were at my lesiure.
Wait. It gets worse. Oh yes, the whining continues.
I am in debt, sorely, pathetically in debt. (I am kicking myself for extravagant purchases made over the weekend, oh yes indeed.) I am so far in debt that I have $0.35 to last me until Thursday, when I get to hand my (pitiful, since my vacation time is not paid) paycheque over to creditors and utility companies. Of course, my entire paycheque couldn't cover those things when I recieve a full two weeks' pay, so I don't even see why I mention it. My credit card is nearing maximum capacity. The government want to ream me for a few grand. I am considering jumping off a bridge. (Stunts for cash!!!)
As for stunts for cash, maybe we can set up a Glamour Shots studio in your new place, a la Napoleon Dynamite?