On my way out of the office this afternoon, the following conversation took place:
Boss: ":See you tomorrow morning."
Me: "No you won't. See you Tuesday."
Boss: "You aren't here tomorrow? Why see you Tuesday?"
Me: "Boss! You have to approve my PTO, you should know that I'm out."
Boss: "And you should know that the minute I approve something, I automatically forget about it."
Me: "You are my boss, you should know what I'm doing. What if I decided to play the system?"
Boss: "I can never tell if you are here anyway so what is the difference?"
Me: ---giving the middle finger with both hands---
My man NEVER knows what I'm doing. If I'm working from home, he assumes I'm on PTO. If I'm on PTO, he still contacts me to see if I can do x y z or if I remember what he said about that thing when we were in the hallway after that meeting. It's fine, whatev, but every so often I think it would be nice if I got paid more if I'm to manage myself so entirely on my own. No, that isn't it. It's that I fear that one day he'll say "oh, yeah, I forgot, you can't take those days off because of a b or c."
But whatev because you know what? I have F-O-U-R days off! Huzzah huzzah huzzah! Four lovely days off to do with what I want. Well, not entirely. Tomorrow night I have dance class* and on Saturday I have to run three miles followed by an easy run of 30 minutes on Sunday, but you know, other than half-marathon training, I'm free to do whatever the fuck I want. This will probably include a lot of naps because I've been super tired lately. Boss thinks it is probably from the increased amount of exercise I've been doing (I ran two and a half miles all at once today!!!) but I think I must be dying. On Monday I took an hour nap at 1PM, took another nap at 4:30, and still went to bed at 10. On Tuesday I went to bed at 9:30 and slept until 7:30. Yesterday I took a nap after work and went to bed at 10. I could have slept until at least 8 if I'd been able to. OK, so maybe I'm not dying but my body seems to want to hibernate. It's S.A.D. but the summer version where too much sun makes you feel like shit. I have a very bad case of this, obviously, as I live in Columbus where I believe it has been raining since last Sunday.
Basically, life is good just now. For me that is. My sister in law is going to take part in a clinical trial that will entail a 3-4 week hospital stay and treatment that is so grueling it might kill her. So life isn't exactly roses, puppies, rainbows, and cunnilingus for that poor chick. But for me it is rad. I met with EA for a one on one status check and I am, evidently, in the minority of administrative workers who have positive morale and a decent working atmosphere. I have several books to read at home and a Red Box within walking distance so I can check out movies on the cheap. Right now I am sitting in the neighborhood bar, drinking 16 ounce pints of Miller Lite for $2 a pop. I'm trying to pretend I'm 22 and in London again, having a few pints at the pub after school, reading the paper. It isn't working but it is better.
I like myself better these days. Mostly, it is because I'm medicated. But it is also just because I'm older and things did get better (why don't they tell us?!?! why do grown ups never say 'look kid, I know it sucks right now and you won't believe me but really, this shit does get better'?!?!?!) J is at home doing who knows what other than disapproving of me. Eating dinner and studying I guess. But I'm in a good place and am feel rosy and pleased. And I'll take it, even if it is partly due to the Miller Lite.
*This is that hip hop dance class I'm doing at the gym with work chicks. It doesn't really count towards my training but as it is 60 minutes of straight cardio, I can't count it as relaxation either. I treat it as an appointment or meeting so that I don't let others down but I get a kick out of it. Also, please don't give me more credit than I deserve. 'Dance class' sounds like I studied for years and still keep it up. This is just a gym class that I've taken once so far. So before you think about giving me credit --- fuck you!
No comments:
Post a Comment