Saturday, June 23, 2012

Mending the cracks

I had a bit of a nervous collapse yesterday and ended up spending the day at home, on the couch, watching episodes of Nero Wolfe and occasionally crying and shaking. It was no fun, obviously, and I was ruined for the day, totally incapable of doing anything. If I wasn't on the couch I was in bed reading. Someone knocked, loudly, on my door and I almost had a panic attack. I lay very still, trying to control my breathing, waiting for them to go away. Then I got up and shut my bedroom door to have an added layer of protection between me and the world.

The reason this happened is pretty basic and can be summed up by blaming it on "life". The specific factors involved are MS, my separation from J, and Manager. That should be enough without my going into it. I will, eventually, but I'm not exactly Miss Mental Wellness 2012 right now, although I'm far better than I was yesterday. So instead of talking about the specifics of what brought me so close to the edge of sanity, I thought I'd share the two things that helped me get through the day.

The first is short and incredibly sweet and is due to Boss who said the following in an email to me:
"As I tell my daughter - now is the perfect time to make a clean sweep of bygones and what could have beens and go forward and enjoy what life has to offer because you deserve so much more than what has been dealt to you up until this point."
Tell me you wouldn't be loyal as fuck to a woman like that?

The second is courtesy of my friend Hunter, who made me laugh throughout the day by chatting with me on and off and telling me about his birthday (which it was yesterday). I'm not going to go into it because I haven't been able to figure out the best way to put the story into words in order to have you grasp the hilarity, but I did want him to know just how thankful I am. I will say, however, that it involves an annual physical exam. Hunter knew how fucked up I was and so he graciously shared an embarrassing moment in his life (and one he goes through every year on his birthday) while I laughed uproariously and had to keep trying to smother myself so neighbors wouldn't hear. I only wish he kept a fucking blog so he could tell his own story as I don't know that I'd get it right.

I've said before that I am incredibly lucky and grateful to have the friends and loved ones that I do. Boss, who is a good friend and former employer, and Hunter, who is hands down my best friend, fall into those categories, friends and loved ones. Not only were they incredibly kind to me whilst I was freaking out, they made me feel like it was OK that it was happening, and offered me support in their own way. Boss offered me encouragement and love. Hunter offered me laughter and a way to pull me out of myself just long enough to perk up and feel a bit more like my old self.

I don't know if I'll get back to my old self exactly, although I expect I will do so. But continual support and hilarious stories are the best medicine I think I've ever had. And fortunately for me, I have a lot of people who offer me their support and I'm pretty sure that between Hunter and J, I'll never be without laughter.

And now I have to start relying on myself again and I have to take myself in hand. I have to get out of bed (it is 11:10 after all) and take a shower. I have to go to the cable company and drop off my cable box, which I should have done last week.  I have to play with Johan and make sure he is happy and OK. I have to start going through the motions of life again and stop just laying around indulging myself. $10 says I make it to the cable company and then shutter myself back in my apartment huddled in bed.

Thursday, June 21, 2012


My heart lays down and opens up
It spills so much love
That's a lie.
My heart broke a year ago
And I never looked for the pieces
They are lost
Swept up
Thrown out
Piled on the ashes of other rubbish

I'll never scavenge
I'll never excavate
I have no desire to find those pieces
To glue them together
It should never have been whole
Not from the start
That whole heart

It caused so much pain
Not to the owner
But to the recipient 
It broke life
It broke it all
By bearing things
By loving things
By being

My heart does not lay down
It spills nothing
It does not exist
I rid myself of it
A year ago
Or almost
It's gone
Love left
Not because MS entered
Nothing to do with it

That's all
That's all that happened.

Wednesday, June 20, 2012


On Monday my boss stopped by my cubicle first thing and I asked him how his time off the previous week had been. He very casually told me all that he'd done, including getting married, which he hadn't really mentioned to anyone (the plans to do so that is). I wasn't that shocked because I've known this man for four years and always figured it was just a matter of time before he wed for the third time so someone he dated for only a few months (though he has actually known this woman for about ten years, they've only had a romantic relationship for about four months). So congratulations and isn't this fun and oh what a shock and can we get back to work?

On Tuesday my boss asked me if I liked Dr. Doe, our assistant medical director. Of course I do and I said as much to which my boss then said "good because you are most likely going to be reporting to him. I've tendered my resignation as of next Friday."

That one surprised me way more and I went through a weird series of emotions. Extreme giddiness at the prospect of no longer working for this man. Terror at the prospect of reporting to someone worse or losing my job for some reason. Anxiety and fear that this won't be true in the end and he'll end up staying and I'll have to start looking for a job as I'd planned. Oh! That's right! If he leaves I don't have to do so! <-- to say relief. I was pretty much in shell shock. And everyone was pissed.

We still are. I had lunch with Boss (not to be confused with Manager, the asshole I work for) today and we discussed it, how this man just said "fuck you" to everyone who works with him because he wants to give the finger to the higher ups. My boss has a very high position with a very particular set of skills. He should have given at least a month, if not two, notice. Instead he gave seven days because he resigned on Tuesday, is taking vacation time this Friday, and will most likely peace out early next Friday. He just said fuck you to so many people who have done their best to play his games and stroke his ego and nurture a decent working relationship because he does, actually have responsibilities. But he sees no trees, only forest, so he set it all ablaze.

I am happy for him because he has a great opportunity ahead of him but I'm pissed off because this is just the biggest slap in the face to me and everyone else. Why bother staying until next Friday? Two of the most important people, two who will be very greatly affected, are overseas and one, who directly reports to manager, is not due back into the office until after Manager's last day. Ass. Fucking. Hole.

But then I realized something today and I swear it felt like a high. Manager has checked out and so now I can check out on his ass. I will still do my work, the work that others rely on, but any requests from him that seem like they have anything to do with his new job will just have to wait because I don't have to give a fuck. I'm not going to be too flagrant about it because, after all, what if he ends up staying? But it feels good knowing that there is a chance I can stop kissing his ass soon, that maybe I'll have a decent manager, one who doesn't treat me so badly that others comment on it behind my back ("God I feel sorry for her. He treats her like shit; have you ever heard the way he talks to her?")

In the meantime I will just do my best to maintain perspective. He's always been a very good friend but he's been such a shitty manager and so awful to me as my employer that I, at times, forget about the friendship and the fact that he is a human being. Like I said, I'm happy for him. I'm happy because I know he wanted to get married again and honestly, our parent company has treated him like shit for years. But it wasn't all everyone against him; he has his part of the blame and he never accepted it. And now he is taking it out on the wrong people. He's treated me like shit for ages and that is one thing, but to see the way he expects other people in the office who have saved his ass time and again to say "yeah, fuck the man" with him is appalling.

I'm happy for my friend.

I hate my manager and want to poke him in the eye.

And as always, I hope for the best and expect and prepare for the worst.


I texted him this evening and asked if I could work from home tomorrow as it is my first anniversary of being diagnosed with MS. His response was "If you feel you need to, yes." Either he is really bad with words or he really is a dick.

Saturday, June 16, 2012

Bitch, please; I'm way dumber than you.

To say that I can be a bit idiotic is a huge compliment. Some days I think to myself - and then tell my mother - there is something seriously wrong with me. Yesterday Upstairs Kid texted me about a gun show. He'd told me about it months ago and yesterday he asked if I could give him a ride. "No way, Jose. I'm not doing shit this weekend" was my initial response. He was cool with it but I ended up feeling bad so I called him hours later and said "fuck it, what time and where?" I woke up asshole early today, as is my want on Satur\days lately, especially now that I don't have curtains, and could not fall back asleep. By 10 I was in my car on my way to grab UK to take him to the show.

Good friend, yes, but my god do I wish I'd stuck with what I told Jose because I was in a wretched mood. Poor UK looked at me with a giddy smile at one point and said "you're being so patient!" I tried to keep my crabbiness to myself because it wasn't his fault. I'm his friend and I think I'm the one he can talk to here in Ohio (he's from Louisiana) and I went and moved out on him. He's taken care of Johan and I've taken care of his drunk ass; hence, we are friends. But it was hot, crowded, and filled with large men. We were only there for a little over an hour and UK didn't buy anything but it felt like ages. I felt bad but he said it was a good show and that, whilst he didn't buy anything, he was glad to see pricing and to see what was on offer. He was looking, by the way, for a Bonnie to go along with my Clyde. Either that or an upper to go with the lower I recently took him to purchase. He chatted with a few people and at one point, spoke a different language called GUN, while I pretended an interest in what I was looking at.

Whilst I was very tired and warm, I figured it was worth it as I had a spa appointment later. My mother send me a "cheer up" present because she knows I'm broke and that I was upset about the dissolution. She sent me two giant cookies (did I mention this? I forget) a lovely enamel bracelet, and three hundred dollars. She all but begged me to use part of it to treat myself. So I made an appointment to get my eyebrows waxed and have a facial. I've just moved and have been physically exhausted. Why the fuck didn't I go for a massage? I was tensed up the entire time because I kept jumping and startling every time the poor woman touched me or ripped off the wax. And the facial was, as always painful. This is how I decide to relax? I told the aesthetician that next time I'll take a tranquilizer. I can't help startling as badly as I do and I'm, apparently, sensitive so this is a bit of a trial. I'm glad I did it but I do wish I'd gotten a massage instead. I couldn't relax but held myself rigid, trying to breathe deeply and remind myself that it might hurt less if I just relaxed. I'm going back in 8 weeks time and hope I fare better. I'm not holding my breath.

It wasn't all gun shows and spa appointments today though. No, I continued setting my new place to rights and was met with my stupidity once again. I was organizing a few things in my huge walk in closet, putting a suitcase away, and as I went to walk out, I somehow caught my foot, the one with the claw marks, through the handle of a reusable shopping bag that then became a sort of bear trap and damn near fell and broke my neck. The bitch of it was that I was working in my bedroom because I knew I had to do something if I wanted to continue sleeping in there as I put my new found dining table in there, right in front of the door and had helped create quite the obstacle course. I knew that if I kept it that way and had to get up in the middle of the night to pee, I'd probably hurt the hell out of myself. Trying to make things safer, I damn near injured myself (again).

And you thought you were stupid.

Friday, June 15, 2012

He Makes Me Laugh

J and I met up at my office to get our paperwork notarized. We then went to my new apartment so we could spend some time and so I could show him my new digs. I, of course, mentioned Johan.

"I sneaked it into the paperwork and you signed it" J said. "I get the pig."
"No you don't!" I hollered, as though he meant it. He didn't.

I made copies of the paperwork on Wednesday (you need a LOT of copies) and then I emailed J the following:

A: The paperwork has been copied.
B: You said that you sneaked in something and I signed it and so you get the pig. That made me laugh and continues to make me laugh.
C: Do not say "no, I didn't really... the pig is too fat to fit into the paperwork."

That is all.

He responded:

He's on my poverty affidavit, and I get that jaunz.  I hope he likes his new pig house.  I set it up in the trunk of my car.  It's a can of fix-a-flat.  He could. . . stand. . . near it, I guess.  But he won't really need to hide in my trunk.  Nothing can get him in there.


Your 'poverty affidavit'?

And you know he will suffocate and die in your trunk! But that's OK because he will then haunt you in your dreams whilst his pig army tortures you when you are awake.


Yes.  I live well below the poverty line – as will the pig when he gets here.

That's my pig.  Don't be touching him.

Me, the last word so far:

I'm going to smuggle him to a safe haven shelter. Then I will replace him with a decoy, one that is actually a rat, and the rat will escape in your car and attack you.

I do love that man. I know we are divorcing but he makes me laugh like a maniac and he knows just what to do to do so.

Back to our regularly scheduled programming

Yeah, I'm over it. I have those moments still, few and far between though they may be. But I do tend to bounce back quickly (perhaps out of guilt?) So...

I only went into the office three days this week but I have really looked forward to this weekend. I may not have gone in to work but I certainly worked in another way Saturday through Tuesday and I am bushed (do people still say that?) Today was long and boring but my momma sent me a cheer up present and it was lovely. Two enormous cookies, a really pretty little enamel bracelet, and three hundred dollars. She knows I'm broke and that I've been so for a long time now and so when she can, she sends me some money. The last time was when I first separated almost a year ago. I know she wishes she could be here or that I could be there so she could take care of me but, alas, that isn't possible. It was an incredibly sweet and generous gesture and I thanked her profusely.

And now the weekend is before me. Plans? A nap soon enough, and then setting my apartment to rights. I hauled a small dining table inside from the dumpster the other day. It doesn't have leaves (though it has the hinges) and isn't pristine but it has character and I like it. I'll probably put it in my enormous bedroom. No real use for it but I like it and think it'll come in handy eventually, if only to make the bedroom appear less cavernous (I haven't had a dresser in five years so I just have a bed, a nightstand, and a laundry hamper). I'm also going to work out a budget in order to have a clear plan to begin paying down my god awful debt. I've been meaning to do that for ages and am dead set on doing it now.

Exciting stuff, eh? My mom begged me to use part of the money she sent as a treat so I'll maybe do that as well. I'm thinking of a massage but we'll see. I'd really like to treat J to lunch but I don't think he is ready for that. Other than that, I'm just going to relax and watch some movies I borrowed from the library (Hercule Poirot) and read my library books. I'm going to take it easy and try to recover from that god awful move.

Like I said, exciting stuff. I am nothing if not a wild woman.

Thursday, June 14, 2012

MS v 9.7

Please forgive me as I delve into self pity mode. No, you are absolutely right, I have no reason to bitch. I have a job and live in the US, which puts me further along the curve than so many others. My loved ones are either healthy or being taken care of by good people (poor, sick, senile Viking and SIL). And I'm healthy, I am.

I am not even that upset. I just had a moment where I thought of it. There is no reason for me to do so as I've not had an attack, but I thought of it and got scared in a practical way. What about if/when I need ramps? What about if/when I can't remember things. What about if/when I'm not me anymore.

In all likelihood, I have twenty years before I have to deal with those questions. But twenty years is 51 and 1/2 years old. Too young to being thinking of walkers, wheelchairs, cognitive loss. But it might happen. I'm sure I will deal with it but 31 and 1/2  years old me doesn't want that to happen. I already wonder when I can't think of a word, when I stumble, is it just me or ...

And I know how very lucky I am and I am, truly, sincerely, grateful. I am, I promise. I'm so lucky because it could be so, so, so worse. But when it is incurable, when it is unpredictable, when there are no guarantees, it's hard. So I know I'm lucky, and I am really grateful because I know there are people out there, like SIL with her rare form of soft tissue cancer, but sometimes I do get scared. Sometimes my fear overrides my understanding that I'm lucky Because I know I am but at the same time, I don't want to lose any part of what I have, not because of something I can't control.

I don't know why I have this. I don't know why I have these weird problems when Teacher just has poor vision and Eldest Brother is just balding and I have all of this. I don't wish either bi polar or MS on them but I wonder why I get it and they don't. I sound awful, don't I? Why me, oh woe is me.

I know I'm damned lucky, but I still get scared. Thank fuck it is few and far between these days, so less frequent than before. Most days I forget. But every so often I remember. Every so often I remember late 2007 when I went numb, with no idea, or last year, when I felt that pain and then lost vision in on eye. Still, I've been so lucky.

And still I'm so scared.


Storm*, one of my girlfriends and part of the Broad Summit, gave me housewarming gifts at our happy hour last night. This is one of them, a hammer that is part of a three piece pink tool set.
I have a pink hammer. Jealous?
It isn't just any hammer, however, oh no. You can unscrew the metal part from the pink hammer part and find a screw driver. If you unscrew the base of that screwdriver, there is another. And again. And again. It is a hammer that is a Russian Nesting Doll of four screwdrivers, each smaller than the last. That, in itself, is noteworthy, but the truly remarkable thing is that I've been thinking about a hammer very similar to this lately. I grew up with one. Granted, the hammer part was copper or brass or some sort of goldy metal, with the silver screw driver base, but I grew up with one. It was my mother's and I always had a weird fascination with it for some reason. These things are slender, lightweight, manageable, and damned useful. I'd been missing the one from my childhood and suddenly here I am with my very own! And it is pink! Huzzah indeed.

Here is something else I got last night:
You can't tell from the picture but that is the top left quarter of my left foot. I was walking down the wooden steps outside of my apartment last night when I turned my ankle and fell. The only part that was damaged was this top portion of my foot. I'm lucky I didn't break anything and that it wasn't worse, but what the fuck? I evidently didn't throw my hands out to protect myself as my palms and elbows are fine. I just tripped and went down flat and that was that. It isn't red all over like that though. I put some weird bottled liquid from the office first aid kit on it this afternoon. It really looks like I was clawed a few times by an animal. Sore and hurts like a bitch but, as I said, it could have been a lot worse. Am I clumsy? Is it the MS? Was it the three beers I had at Broad Summit? Who knows. I tend to injure myself in absurd ways, drunk as a skunk or sober as a judge, and it really has been awhile. How do I know? Because my knees are not fucked up. I have the same tendency to skin my knees as does a 7 year old girl. But hey, if you don't end up with a cut or a bruise, you aren't really enjoying yourself, now are you?

So short work week but I still look forward to the end of it because I wasn't exactly resting on my days off. Instead I was packing, dealing with emotional paperwork, and just go go going. Oh, and I lost my office access card during the move so had to request a new one. That sounds straight forward enough but you do not work in my company with its labyrinthine IT request system. I am not being hyperbolic when I tell you that there are three methods of placing an IT request depending on what it is you need. PC, email, and phone issues go to X. Issues with internal programs require you to issue a ticket through Y. Requests for hardware, server access, new building access cards, etc, require a ticket through Z. So I got the new card and issued my Z request, eventually got it approved, and was told my card was activated. I went outside and tried the card. I then walked around the complex so that someone could let me in. Because those who work on Z requests cannot get the simplest of items done within 24 hours, apparently. Oy. You'd think I was requesting access to an executive folder on the main server so that I could spy rather than trying to get entrance to the fucking office in which I work.

But such is life and if that is my biggest complaint, I can't be doing too badly, now can I? 

*Originally, I called her She-Ra. She didn't know She-Ra and wanted to be Storm. SS was called Wonder Woman but she wanted Rogue instead, because she is an X-Men fan and I, a fan myself, could not say no. Super Girl's only qualm was that her name made her think she should have been carded when she and I put in drink orders and she was not carded but I was. 

Wednesday, June 13, 2012

Broad Summit - June

It started for two reasons. The first is that a colleague left the company and a few of us wanted to keep in touch. I was asked to arrange something, most likely because I'm an administrative assistant and I, the asshole that I am, thought "yes, I AM an administrative assistant but not, you know, the world's admin, so if you want to drink, by god, I'm shoe horning my way in and drinking with you." We got together a couple of times, catching up and having a good time. Then, because I'm so desperate for friendship and wanting to make it last, I tenaciously fought to get the group together every so often. We now aim for monthly meetings and I've been named the founder (foundress) because I keep it all together.

I love these women. They are smart, capable, loving, kind, loyal, and just phenomenal. Each meeting goes the same way. We begin by bitching about work, swapping gossip, and assuring one another that, no, it isn't you, things are stupid/fucked up/ridiculous. We get heated over horrible fried food and alcohol, then move on to jokes and real life issues, things in our personal lives. And it is so satisfying. There is so much support and love and just the right amount of ribbing to make it the best night of the month. It happens on a Wednesday in the middle of the month because that is when we really need it. Ready to slit our wrists, about to pull the razors out, but we have to put a hold on it so that we can meet up. Then we meet and everything is OK again.

They really are a great bunch and I love them all. SS helped me move. Poison Ivy asked me, kindly, how J handled the paperwork yesterday. She-Ra gave me a lovely house warming gift though it was totally unnecessary. And Super Girl (Golden Rod)? Super Girl was initiated seamlessly.

I truly think it is what we all want. We have our friends outside of work, maybe in town, maybe across the country, but we want girlfriends at work who can commiserate about things that we deal with 9 hours a day, 40 hours a week. We want to be able to discuss work, rail and whine, and then we want to be regular non work girlfriends again. I'm the founder only because I'm the most desperate and so I do my best to make sure we make it an appointment, a priority, something that we have to do. And we all love it. I hate setting it up, don't like the responsibility, but it is so worth it for the couple of hours a month I have to let my hair down with these women, so that we can all just be ourselves and be accepted. Tomorrow I'll go in and we will all look at one another with secret smiles, gratitude, slyness, etc. But we will be our professional selves.

But we will all know that we have this little exclusive club that we belong to and we will all look forward to the next meeting of the Broads. In September we hope to have our First Annual Winey Broads meeting in which we'll visit Ohio wineries.

No matter what happens, we are bound.

Tuesday, June 12, 2012

One More Step

Yes, somehow I still have internet. Fingers crossed it lasts.

I'm pretty much moved in, just a few more things to unpack and put away, but things are liveable. I like my new place, like the space and the age (16 years as opposed to 60+ which is what I'm used to), I have a dishwasher and central air. The parking sucks but that's fine. I don't know anybody here and that is equally fine; I think I like the anonymity.

It was a stressful few days and today was surprisingly emotional. J and I met at my office to sign the dissolution paperwork in the presence of a notary. We were emotional and then we just sat and chatted for a bit. "I just want to sit here for six hours and bullshit with you" he said. We made one another laugh a lot, often to stem tears. I then drove him to my new place to show him around. Before we left he told me he is going to start trying to meet new women. I was overjoyed and told him that I hoped he'd meet someone, that someone would be nice to him and would love him, that I really hope he ends up in a happy relationship. He asked me "don't you want to be in a relationship?" I answered, honestly, that I hope to avoid that in my future. "I can handle being hurt, that's fine. But I don't think I can handle hurting someone else again."

I brought him back to the office and got out of my car to hug him. We held on for a long time and I started crying, sobbing. He rubbed my back and said "it's OK, honey, it's OK." I pulled away and told him that I'd finally started referring to him as my ex-husband and that he'd have to start calling me his ex-wife. We hugged again and we both cried. I told him I'd always be here for him should he ever need me and he assured me of the same. Finally, we parted and I told him I had to go before someone from my office walked out and found me having a life altering moment in the parking lot. I started weeping as I walked to my car and it took me a minute to collect myself before I was able to drive away.

I wasn't expecting this. I think we were both relieved that there was no hate or animosity. No, this divorce isn't contentious, but it is incredibly sad and heartbreaking and it just continues on and on. I don't think J realizes that we'll have to go one last time, together, to make things official. But then, that is one of the reasons we married in the first place, after all, to make it more difficult to separate. We are good when we try, J and I.

I'll always love him and I think he'll always love me.

Saturday, June 9, 2012


I am presently sitting on my living room floor, surrounded by the fall out of all that is "what is left to take care of" after having spent the morning moving my furniture into my new place. Do you know what you want when you have to move? Social Secretary and her adorable husband. SS is a friend from work (so named because that was the title she gave herself when we last met for Broad Summit. She's this lovely woman, I believe 50, who looks like she's from India but is actually from Singapore. Mr. SS looks much more like he's from Singapore and he's also in his 50's. Lovely fucking people and I swear that man should have been a bank robber with his creeping into tight spaces and climbing over shit in the truck to make everything fit. In roughly 3 1/2 hours we picked up my reserved UHaul, crammed it full, and emptied it. When I went to pay for the UHaul I bought some beer and SS picked up a bottle of White Hatter Belgian Style White Pale Ale by New Holland Brewing. When we got to my place, we toasted the move.

Because so many people watched as we lifted, hauled, and grunted, I told SS that if anyone asks, I'm telling them that she and her husband are my parents (they adopted me, whilst still in Singapore, from America). 

I spent the last two days taking a carload of boxes at a time to my new place after work and now I just have to get the dregs, throw stuff out, and move Johan. But that can wait because I'm exhausted and I'm not going to have internet when I am settled. I still have a lot to do and clearing out the old needs to be done by tomorrow evening as I have to be out by Monday. I'm tired and sore but also relieved and grateful because so much of the hard stuff is done, the stuff that I truly couldn't do on my own. If SS and her hubby hadn't been available to help, I'd probably have tried to do it all on my own. Maybe I would have succeeded... but maybe I would have ended up without a couch or a bed. As it is, my television is in my car and will remain there until I can get help hauling up to the new place. But my furniture, a bunch of my clothing, and so many boxes are in the new place and so what is left is manageable.

I'm so fortunate. I'm lucky to have wonderful friends who will volunteer to help me move, even though it is an onerous task. I'm lucky that Johan has behaved and been satisfied to just hang out with a ton of hay and not yell constantly. I'm lucky to have moved on a day that wasn't 90 degrees. I'm lucky to have people in my life who I know have worried about me and this move, who wish they could have been here with me and for me even though that would have been impossible. There is a lot of love for me in this world and I marvel at that. I'm more grateful than I can say.

Saturday, June 2, 2012

Tiddly Winks

You know what I like? A good old fashioned historical mystery. Where is Amelia Earhart? Did she survive and land her plane only to die as a castaway? Which Billy the Kid was the real Billy the Kid? And throw a little phrase like "researchers plan on exhuming his mother in order to extract her mitochondrial DNA to test against the three men in question" and I'm all a'quiver. I can't help it, I just love that stuff. I love how tragedies take on a new romantic aspect after so many years have passed, how there are individuals who were so beloved, so embraced, so feared by a nation that one can mention the name 70, 80, 100, 1,000 years later and people will still recognize it.  And I love how we, as humans, just cannot let it go if we don't know the answer. Because yes, I do need to know, without any doubt, where Hitler is buried, where Genghis Khan is buried, whether or not all of Czar Nicholas's children were, indeed, murdered or whether or not two of them escaped.

Why do I need to know this? Why don't you need to know? How can you have that sort of unanswered question? Perhaps it is because I'm so totally OK with not having the answer to "what is the meaning of life" and "how did we get here?"* There are a lot of answers that I don't have and probably won't but the meaning of life and how we got here are so huge that they aren't mysteries but matters of physics or math or science or who knows what and it is all just so tiresome. Where is Amelia Earhart is something that we can probably find out one of these days and that's what I consider a controlled question; it is one that has an answer that mankind can discover because there is enough background information to start from. And since there is a very real chance that we'll be able to find the answer, I feel it is of the utmost importance that I know it.

*I've had people ask me "then how did we get here" upon learning that I'm an atheist. I find this to be both hilarious and maddening because really? Am I expected to respond with "God did it" whenever I don't have and answer? Where is Amelia Earhart? What happened to her? "I dunno, god did it". 

The other day I realized that I really like my job. No, I love it. I love the work that I do. And then Manager pissed me off so badly that I thought "why the fuck did I say 'I love my job' and bring this down upon myself?" I've been putting in a lot of hours over my usual because I just need to get a lot done. Yesterday I realized that I'd left my wallet at home and that always makes me uncomfortable. I emailed manager and basically said hey, left my wallet at home, I'm not comfortable with that, can I go at 3? Also, By 3 my time card will reflect 45 hours. Manager told me that if I was really that concerned he'd prefer it if I went home and grabbed my wallet and came back to the office. 

What the fuck? Or, as Boss put it when I told her about it, are you fucking serious? My job can be done from anywhere; it is not necessary to be in the office. Also, did you notice that I was going to have 45 hours by 3 as opposed to the usual 40? It was Manager giving me a hard time about wanting to work from home after my car accident (when I didn't have transportation) all over again. I was incredibly frustrated but I got a bit philosophic on the drive home to get my wallet. Yes, he does treat me like shit in some ways but I treat him like shit by talking badly about him. Also, I've worked for him for a year and a half so why am I not used to this? Honestly, it's like working for two or three people. He says really nice things about me to others in the company. If a higher up asks him about his assistant, he will praise me. If he receives an email from a higher up thanking him for being so quick with a response he will, if it's true, say "it's thanks to Cat, she took care of this for me." He does believe in giving credit where it is due. But he will also play mind games with me when he is displeased in some way and he will only really play manager when I want to leave early or work from home. His reasoning for why I shouldn't work from home is that he doesn't want people to think I'm another Suzy Snowflake, this woman at work that we all know is playing golf when she says she's working outside the office. Do you know who questions whether or not I'm working if I work from home? Manager, I guess. Everyone else knows that I'm working because I still answer and send emails, respond to requests, and get shit done.

But, like I said, it has been a year and a half. It's funny because a lot of people have told me "I could never or would never work for that man". I think I've earned a certain amount of office street cred by doing so myself. And, to my credit, I went from wanting to cry to problem solving mode pretty quickly. So after I move, the final of my present life changes, I'll be free to start focusing on finding a new job. If you need a Credentialing Coordinator, hit me up. I'm damn good at what I do. I'm not bragging, truly, but I am good at what I do. I'd fucking better be since I've been doing it long enough.