Friday, September 22, 2006
Because I go to Wendy's entirely too much...
Gah! I need an Advil Liquigel and a Frosty (lucky for me there just happens to be a pill in my desk drawer and an ice-cream-like substance in the freezer. yes I landed in Wendy's drive-thru again at lunch today. shut up!). This has been one ass-kicking week.

Period Watch 2006 is officially over. Please pass the Tampax. This week I got my period after 78 days AND AFTER I spent the $12.99 to find out what I already knew. I'd forgotten just how hard it is to pee on a stick for a full five seconds (read: messy). And I'd also forgotten how one feels just a little pang of regret when that plus sign doesn't show up in the results window (cause how cool would that have been to have another little person in your life? Even if the littlest person in your life right now is a full eight years old and you think you may not want to go back to diapers and midnight feedings. A baby? With a head that smells like babyness? Mmmm). So yeah. OVER. And apparently I'm looking forward to grandchildren in ten or so years. Or maybe just the smell of their heads.

Cheap Bastard had a small operation on Wednesday. Day surgery. That's all I'm really allowed to say about that without pissing him off cause I wrote about his private life on my website. It's a secret. We're all worried sick. Stress abounds. Watch for updates to this secret, tragic surgical matter...coming never. The end.

Oh and we got a new receptionist two weeks ago from an agency. She was working out okay. At least she answered the phones well and distributed the faxes and that was a big break for everyone around here. She did look a little overwhelmed by the eight constantly ringing lines (they ring in my nightmares, seriously). She quit last Friday. But told no-one. By Monday morning at 10:30 we're wondering what happened to Linda and calling the agency for information. When the agency finally caught up with her she told them that we very nearly gave her a nervous breakdown with all the work she was expected to handle and THE PHONES, oh the phones! She never, ever wanted to think about us again. So on Tuesday they sent us a new recruit. Who, again, has worked out well. Apparently she phoned the agency this morning and told them she wouldn't be returning on Monday.

I'm thinking that anytime in the next couple of weeks won't be the best time for me to give my notice or tell anyone around here about my new job. I'm picturing my co-workers running at me with knives and my boss lying in the fetal position under his large oak desk.

...now, please excuse me. I have a date with a pill and some chocolately goodness.



Time until I'm back with my family: 1 hour, 49 minutes

Laundry List: I need a diary...that I can write all my non-internet appropriate secrets down in. Then I could write pretend comments to myself too: "Gee Vicky, I'm sorry you've been so worried about your husband. I'm sorry that you can't write about it and get it out of your system. I'm sure everything will turn out okay. Oh and I know its been hard having other family members in your house this week. HARD. Really f*&#ing hard. And that you can't write about that on the internet either because you're not anonymous to your family and your family will be offended. And that your head is spinning and you can't wait to go home tonight to JUST YOUR FAMILY and no one else." Ahem. Yeah, pretend comments like that...


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