Poof

Breaking the Camel's Back

It's always fun to find new levels of pain that our bodies will dredge up when we find that we are, in fact, more stressed than we've ever been. Nice to know I have something to look forward to and that I can never say "well, at least it can't get worse." The usual insomnia and hysterical crying jags are par for the course (though the frequency of said crying jags has increased) but the tensing up of neck muscles as soon as I hit a road near my office and the clenching of my jaw throughout the day is not. Nor is the acid reflux I developed for a few days. That's what acid reflux is? What a bitch I am for thinking it couldn't be that bad. It's like with allergies; I used to think allergies just meant you were a pussy and then I realized that no, that's not what it is. And I didn't even develop any myself. But reflux, oy vey. And it just seems counter-intuitive to me that when it happens I need to eat. I feel like I'm about to throw up any moment and I'm supposed to put food on it? Ooph.

So yes, stress. Work has had me bent over for so long now that my knees are locked in place. Just the constant demands on my time from people who like to tell me how busy they are all the time. Whenever people say "we've just been too busy" I want to punch them in the throat because what the fuck? I'm busy too, partly because these assholes are clueless and disorganized and are just plain assholes. But my manager appears to have spoken with someone because all of a sudden the frequent requests/demands have stopped. I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop however, waiting for the head of the division that has been the noose around my neck to pull back on the rope. My friend tells me not to worry unless or until something comes up but I find that difficult a lot of the time because I despise the unknown. So my neck tenses up and my body refuses to relax enough to sleep.

Medical Madness

Saw my neurologist on Friday. We went through the usual exam and he said I was fine and he had no worries. He's leaving for Yale in December and I'll see one of his colleagues, all of whom he says are nice people. "I don't need them to be nice, " I said, "I just need them to be good." His response was "well, you aren't what I'd call a difficult patient." Lovely compliment.

But I'm glad that he doesn't foresee me having any issues. Still, I have a follow up MRI on September 7, when we'll see if I have any new inflammation (fingers crossed). And he prescribed me an anti anxiety medication at my request, because work is so stressful. Maybe it is a placebo effect or maybe it is already working but suffice it to say, it is my new best friend.

Respite

Upstairs Kid and I went shooting on Saturday. I did really poorly at first. My stance was off, I wasn't using the proper part of my finger to shoot, and I wasn't sure which eye to use. I eventually settled on the left, UK corrected how I was holding my arms and reminded me to use the flesh of my finger pad only. I improved greatly. And I had a great time. As we left the range, we saw a small plane flying low. I got it into my head that there might be an airshow and said "do you want to have an adventure?" UK was all for it so we did a U Turn and found the Fairfield airport, one of those small ones for private planes. We stumbled upon a historic airplane museum which was tiny and a bit sad but super fun because I got to sit in these little war replica planes an jeeps and such. We also got to see sky divers come in, those who took off at the other end of the hanger. Total fun.


From there we decided to cap the day with lunch and he suggested Rusty Bucket and swore he knew where it was. He sort of did but he'd gone there by bike so we got a bit turned around before finding it. As soon as we arrived I received a text from a number I didn't recognize. "I was thinking about you and hope you are doing OK. Take it for what it is ... take care." I didn't need Columbo or Sherlock to help me figure out that it was most likely Stalker. I forwarded it to Hunter so he could look up the number and yep, Stalker indeed. I received a second, garbled text about an hour later. "My dog and I didn't expect to get a reply but we wish you would". At least, I think that is what it said but it was really fucked up because he was drunk and/or high. Lovely. Fortunately, that was the end of it and I haven't heard from him since and when I returned to work on Monday, I didn't look at him. He did email me a forward to see if an issue that was closed had really been taken care of and I simply replied "no. For more detail please see the telecom worker involved." No wiggle room there. If he approaches me again Hunter said he'd call him and see what his problem is. Friends in high places.

Emotional

So Friday was a good medical appointment and, for the most part, a great Saturday. I stayed at UK's place that night because we went out drinking so I crashed on his floor. Got up at 7:30 a.m. and went to drive home but hit a fucking curb fucking up my rim. The tow truck guy was nice and even researched my preferred shop. Dropped car off, went back to UK's place to watch a couple episodes of "Deadliest Warrior"*, and eventually got the call that they put a spare on and would call me when they had the rim. Went home and crashed.

And then.... J called me on Sunday and told me that he wanted to let me know that he felt bad about not responding to my emails. He knows it's over and that I don't want to be his wife but he still loves me and so when I email him, it consumes him. I didn't know. We had an emotional conversation. In the end, I told him I'd stop emailing until he was ready and he reached out. It was a terrible conversation but a funny one because he always makes me laugh. He said goodbye by saying "well, it's been good crying with you but I think I should go." We talked about how he is really angry at me but really sad and can't help but love me. We talked about how he's so full of hate and anger and I just wish he could use it for good for once (it's true, he's an angry guy) and he said he's tried that but it doesn't work. I told him that whenever he calls I'm afraid he's going to yell at me and he said he thinks that's what I want because it will make me feel less guilty. "No, J, that isn't what I want. I'm terrified when you yell. And nothing will make me feel less guilty."

There were a few jokes about the pig, about how I signed papers giving him custody but that I have to pay for his maintenance and medical care. J also needs me to watch him from now until the pig dies. But still, Johan is no longer mine. The pig always distracts us from crying for a bit.

But yeah, tomorrow is D day. I have directions. I have my outfit planned (professional to show that I'm treating the occasion with respect). I have anti anxiety medication.

I have no idea how I'm going to hold my shit together.

The end

As you can see, I'm a bit scattered. I've been working on this post for awhile and I just can't write with any sense of cohesive narrative. I'm hoping the new meds help. Or maybe I'll go back to drawing pictures. Who knows? Who cares?

Sundae

 God I'm Dumb
As anyone who knows me knows, and anyone who has read my blog has learned, I am almost always riddled with bruises and at least one skinned knee. I used to think it was just a matter of moving too fast and not paying attention, of being preternaturally clumsy. But I've realized that much of it has to do with something much more stupid. Sure,  I take the occasional tumble, but who doesn't? And OK, I did once trip over my own feet after hanging up the phone (this was back in the day when I lived with my family and we had the old school attached to the wall phone). I did once fall for no good reason whilst walking with J. But, after falling three times in one night the other day, I took a look around and realized that I've made my home into a fucking obstacle course. I really need to paste a note to my door saying "if I die and it looks like there was a struggle, do not automatically assume I was murdered" because my home is a disaster and it's almost as though I have set it up on purpose, my own personal gauntlet. Of course I fucking trip and fall all the time. I have all sorts of shit in the middle of my rooms and in the dark, I have no chance of making it to the lamp or my bed without stepping on something or tripping over something. I'm lucky I haven't broken my neck yet.

I really need to clean this place up. I am, I am certain, the stupidest girl on the planet. "Hmm, I think I'll put this box right here, two steps from my doorway so that I can trip over it." "I've just gotten home from a business trip and so I think I should put my suitcase immediately in front of my front door so that I'll know where it is and, if I get home late and in the dark, I can take a nice head dive into the carpet. Perfect!"

Fire! 

Upstairs Kid and I went to the gun range on Saturday. It took us about 2 hours to get there because some asshole stole my GPS and so we were going by directions he copied from google and we just somehow got lost. We had fun and laughed a lot but it was damned annoying; more so when we got lost on the way back. But we got to the range and he picked up his pistol, his Bonnie to my Clyde, and I did my best shooting to date. I'm still nowhere near a good shot but I've gotten more familiar with my Beretta and I have a better understanding of how to hold it in order to improve my accuracy. It drives my mother nuts that I own a weapon and that I go shooting but it's all purely recreational for me. I do not own my gun for self defense purposes; as UK pointed out, if you have it for self defense, you must reconcile yourself to being able to kill someone. I don't think I have that in me, not even if I'm being attacked. I suppose that speaks poorly of my self preservation skill but I just don't know that I could take a life. So Clyde is never loaded in my home, even now that I've 'earned' my ammo (I bought it when I bought the gun but UK kept it until I passed his test of improving my shooting). It is always safe in my home. It is locked up and the magazines and chamber are always empty.

But lord do I love shooting. I don't really know what it is. I like feeling connected to what I'm doing, which is why I am not a fan of 22s, even though I understand they are good for practice. I like having a tie to something I'm doing. I like building a skill. And I like the power of the weapon. I don't like when the guy in the next lane is firing a 500 revolver that sounds like a cannon and makes me jump and unable to shoot. Even UK had to stop until dude had finished.He told me he felt wind from the guy's revolver and he thinks his head probably shook. It was bizarre and we were happy when he stopped. But thems the breaks.

Travel

Yes, I had a miserable time getting home but I made it. On my flight from Texas to Detroit, there was a woman with a 2 year old and a 2 month old in the seats in front of me. The 2 year old start screaming for the last half hour of the flight. I don't think he was even crying, just screaming to let his mother know he was unhappy. I remember thinking "why do kids have such high pitched screams?" The weirdest thing is that that 2 month old only cried for a bit, having been woken up by his big brother. When the plane landed, the mother apologized to everyone because you know, no one wants to be "that" person with the screaming child. I told her "my brother has a 3 and a half year old and 6 month old. He just traveled home for a visit from Abu Dhabi and I don't know how he and his wife do it. Also, how did your infant not know that when his big brother started, he was supposed to join in for some tag team yelling?"

I actually spoke with Teacher on Saturday because he is in Arizona and it was his birthday. I told him how I don't know how he and the wife do it, the 19 hour travel days with two kids, car seats, and a stroller. Yes, I fell apart and had to have Hunter help me be an adult but at least I didn't have anyone else to worry about and I didn't have the cumbersome luggage that parents do. Screaming children on a flight are a nightmare and I resent them totally but I also know that it is worse for the parent because they have to deal with it as well and they have the guilt and worry about what other passengers are thinking. I also know that children don't have the same coping skills as adults and so they don't necessarily understand that the discomfort is going to end. I've come a long way from when I was a teenager and just despised children and looked at parents of the screamy with disdain. Because honestly? When the 2 year old was screaming I got so upset that I wanted to start screaming myself.

Work...of course

I wrote to my Viking again, finally. I haven't written in ages and I like to think it is because I've been busy. Really, I have no excuse. But I finally wrote to her again and I realized, yet again, that I really seem to only work these days. Yes, I have Broad Summit once a month and I am on a more regular schedule for shooting with UK, but my god I've become a dull person! It's just that I really like what I do, I have a ton that I need to take care of, and honestly, I'd rather work than think about going to the courthouse on August 29th to end my marriage. I never thought I'd be the type of person, be the type of adult, who threw themselves into work to avoid difficult personal things. Ending my marriage with J is the right thing to do. I know that. We've now been separated for over a year and so I should be able to move on. But it's hard. I know many people don't understand how I can still have such guilt but, as I tell them, you don't know until you've been through it. I won't bore you again with how I feel about J or about my feelings on the matter. I will simply say, instead, that, even after all this time, I'm still not OK about it. He's found a job finally. He told me because he didn't want me to find out when we were in court, like I'm a stranger. I was so happy to hear it because he's been looking for years and he's wanted to get out of academia. He's going to look for a new partner and now he has a job. He's moving on. I'm so happy for him. And here I wanted to be in control to make sure he'd be OK and he's doing it all on his own. The hubris of humans.

I need to let go. I know that. I think people might say that I need to forgive myself for what happened. Even J has said to me in the past that it wasn't all my fault. I just somehow need to figure out how that is true.Because right now, right now, I feel like shit.

Waldo

Where have I been? If you'd asked me on Wednesday, I'd have said on a business trip in Texas. But then Thursday happened. I took a flight to Detroit, where I arrived at 6:15 EST for my 8PM flight. This flight was delayed until 10:25 when I landed, then 1:30 a.m. At 1:30 a.m. I was awoken from my place on the floor at the gate where I'd fallen asleep to find that my flight had been canceled. I was placed on a flight for 8:40 the next morning and took a shuttle to a hotel. This morning I arrived at the airport in good time to find I'd left my wallet at the hotel. To my credit, I'd had three hours of sleep at the most. I was told the shuttle driver had another run at 8 and he'd bring it. At 8:35 I called, yet again, and found that he'd come and gone without seeing me and left my wallet with a security agent. I spent a frantic few moments harassing the staff until I got my wallet back, intact (holler to the Comfort Suites staff).  I missed my morning flight but got onto a new one and so made it home.

Props go out to Hunter as well as the shuttle driver who returned my wallet. I called him in a puddle of hysterics and he was there for me on several calls telling me what I needed to do, promising that I'd get home TODAY, and not making fun of me one bit for being an idiot or being upset. Again, I'd had three hours of sleep and spent 7 hours in the Detroit airport, which does not have wi fi. Zero internet and minimal emotional stability. Hunter has traveled quite a bit in his years at our company and he is my best friend so I turned to him immediately and he did not let me down. I'm fucking lucky to have the friends I do and, as BFF said "I'm so glad Hunter took care of you." I owe him, big time.

But yes, I was actually in Texas for a business trip, arriving Sunday night. I was ridiculously nervous and terrified but it went well, me being the most professional person in the room and them treating me like some sort honored dignitary. There were some bumps but I think it was a success in a number of ways. I helped rebuild our relationship, proved that I'm serious about working with them and helping them succeed, and I proved that I am a professional and competent employee who can be trusted with resposibility.

More fun was visiting with friends. I spent some time with Hunter of course, but I also had lunch with a different IT division, chatted with a guy in yet another IT division, and did a tour of the mail room where they send out my recruitment letters. As I told my boss, I maintained my relationship across divisions because that is the best way of ensuring good customer service.

One of the best parts of the trip happened on Tuesday. Hunter flew to IL on Monday for a presentation for a potential client and, on Tuesday, he stopped by my hotel for a drink on his way back from the airport. I excused myself to use the ladies room and when I came back, the general manager of my division was there talking to him about why he was there. When that man left, Hunter looked at me and said "you know he thinks I'm fucking you, right?" As PW put it when I told her (because she knows I'm terrified of this particular GM), "that's one way of climbing the corporate ladder." Considering that all the IT folks I hung out with are men, I'm happy that the division I was there to work with is comprised of women. Reputations and all.

I arrived in Columbus at about 11:45 this morning, grabbed my bag, which had been gate checked, and took a shuttle to my car. I then drove to the vet to pick up the pig, stopped by the office to do one task, went to the grocery store for some food, and came home. Tomorrow I am going to the gun range with Upstairs Kid. I look forward to the stress relief of shooting Clyde as well as the time away from work (because otherwise, I'd totally be working). He's picking up a pistol he bought, his Bonnie, and we'll get to shoot that as well. Everyone I know who knows I have this appointment is very happy indeed as it is my being social and getting out of the house. I almost canceled due to my flight arrangements, but knew it was something I really needed to do. See, it isn't all work with me!

So now I'm drinking some beer and watching "The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo" for the fifth time, courtesy of Red Box. Not a bad end to my day.

Dancing Bird of Paradise

Hablamos Burger King

I've been watching Dateline episodes on the internet, much to my great joy. Sure, I've been doing pretty well without television but mainly because I was subscribing to Hulu until recently and hadn't watched my DVDs  a hundred times (which I now have). I recently discovered that you can watch Dateline on the NBC website and so huzzah! I do like true crime, Lester Holt, Dennis Murphy, and Keith Morris (Morrison?). But what is with the Burger King commercial that only plays in Spanish? It's for a barbeque sandwich with sweet potato fries so I'm not really getting the link. Is Dateline's web audience predominately what we like to refer to as 'Latino'? I might not have noticed it if it weren't for the fact that internet 'television' has a habit of playing the same two commercials over and over and over again (when I was watching a marathon of an old BBC series called Teachers, I wanted to stab myself in the eyeballs every time the Greyhound Vodka commercial came on).

Other than the BK commercial en espanol solomente (I have no idea if that is correct), I only have one issue with Dateline. Why is it that they only have programs featuring pretty white women? OK, I did see two in which the women were Brazilian and ... uh, were they both Brazilian? And I'm talking about the murder mystery ones, not the news coverage ones. It's pretty much just pretty white (or light skinned) chicks getting killed or being accused of killing their husbands. I have a feeling it has to do with "socioeconomic" factors or "economic disparity." Which is just a fancy way of saying "people are more interested in learning about murder mysteries that involve the wealthy and white people are the wealthy people. But Typhoid Mary wasn't wealthy. I mean, OK, she didn't exactly murder people but it's still really interesting and she was, essentially, a lunch lady.

Weekend

I finally went back to the gun range recently. Upstairs Kid and I decided to try a new place, one further north, and we really liked it. I'm not really sure what it was. They have outdoor and indoor ranges, it is in a nice area, and it just seemed clean and nice. That and the young guy UK talked to about a specific pistol really knew his shit and wasn't trying to upsell him (UK is, in fact, getting a Bonnie to go with my Clyde [which I own out right as of today, having paid UK the last $75]). And I did my best work with a pistol thus far. My accuracy wasn't fantastic but it was much better for me and I felt more confident. Now that my life is a bit more settled, I'm hoping UK and I can go every other Saturday and so we are going to look into getting a membership at one of the places we've visited. Unfortunately, the place we went today probably won't win out due to price. But! I did get to see a guy wearing a shirt that said "Pavlov Rings My Bell" and that tickled me.

Other weekend fun included the following:

1. A nice long walk. I think of myself as an extrovert because I'm inappropriate and love to make people laugh. I'm also very social at work. But once the end of my shift hits, I don't want to talk to anybody. That's part of why I don't really do anything on the weekends (well, that and I don't have friends in state who are available/willing to hang out with me... aww). Going with UK to shoot was the most social I'd been in awhile. But I also tend to stay indoors because I read so damned much and don't like the sun. This troubles certain people and I think one very good friend worries about my being cooped up all the time. So I felt a bit embarrassed about my lifestyle and thought "you know, maybe I should take advantage of the nice day we are having." So I took a lovely three or four mile walk (this time on the correct side of the road, the one with the side walks) and really enjoyed myself. 
2. Watching movies. J and I saw the second Sherlock Holmes movie in the theater and whilst we agreed it was beautifully shot, neither of us thought it was as good as the first. However, I found that I enjoyed it more on the second, third, and fourth viewing*. I also rented Contraband because it was the only thing that tripped my trigger. I'm hoping it gets better on the second viewing.
3. Helping a Japanese neighbor move a dresser from by the dumpster into his apartment. I was a bit jealous as I'd seen that dresser and wished I could have it but I knew I couldn't move it myself. He'd already salvaged the drawers and I just caught him as he came for the bulk of the piece. So I offered to help him. He informed me that he is the "sushi man" at the Kroger across the street and said he'd bring me sushi tomorrow as a thank you. Whilst I do enjoy sushi, I assured him that was not necessary. After all, I know what it is to have help whilst moving. 
4. Going for another walk because I'm a masochist. OK, yes, the walks were nice and on the second I found Innis Gardens, which is simply gorgeous, but I keep going during the peak of the heat and my feet hurt like eight bitches in a bitch boat. Sure I brought water with me these last two times but one walk was 90 minutes and the other two hours. In 90+ heat. I remain the smartest person on Earth.

So, all in all, not a bad weekend. 

*I have a tendency to watch the same thing over and over again. Some people understand this but others find it infuriating.

Bits and Bobs
After that lovely weekend I returned to work for a Monday that lasted 10.25 hours. I was weirdly focused though so it wasn't as terrible as it could have been and then I came home to something pretty stellar. OMG but have you seen this? I am in love with this person now.

And: Sally Ride died. I told Hunter, via IM (he was in DC working ungodly hours on some sort of I don't know) and he said "who's that?" My reply? "Sigh... first woman in space. She had cancer." Hunter: "That's too bad. Do you know what kind?" Simply: "Yes. Space cancer.... no, just kidding, pancreatic."* 

Also, remember 50 Shades? Well, a friend of mine reviewed them on Good Reads and it made me want to know what happened in the books, like the actual plot (as far as there is one). So I went on Amazon and found some of the funniest fucking reviews ever. This is the review of the second and here is the third. I loved these reviews because the author enjoyed the books but was totally honest about them. Once again, the reviews of these books is the best thing about them I've found thus far. That and talking to Jilly Bean who just finished the first one because it cracks her up when I say things like "I'd be way more gracious about accepting shit from Christian. Wanna give me a car and a brand new computer? OK, I'll blow you for that." 

Finally: I've decided I'm going to make up an assistant. Whenever I have to contact anyone currently on our panel or anyone in our company with something that I think they will find annoying, I'm going to sign the letter with "Tony Flags, Credentialing Assistant" so that people can be annoyed with 'the boy' and not me. Tony Flags is a name I got from watching an episode of the Graham Norton Show. Antonio Banderas and Chris Martin were guests and Martin was talking about having a boring name. He said he'd looked up and found that banderas is Spanish for 'flags' and so Antonio Banderas is really Tony Flags, a name the actor actually uses at hotels from time to time. Thus, whenever anyone is upset with me, they won't know it and will, instead, be upset with Mr. Flags.

*Oh calm down. I was just annoyed that he didn't know who she was right off that bat and I got all "she's a woman so of course you don't know" which is totally unfair because Hunter isn't some misogynistic idiot. 

The Italian

I can't help it! Upstairs Kid gave me an hour long tutorial on cleaning and maintaining Clyde, what to do if I should encounter a double feed or (unlikely) a stove pipe. He also showed me how to take the gun apart and put it back together again. AND! He wants me to buy him out so I will do so. Thus, my excitement is renewed before it even had a chance to wane. I just regret not being able to take better pictures of him. Hand in glove is all I have to say. UK showed me one time how to take the gun apart and put it back together and, a few hours later, I was able to do so on my own!

But so yeah, I own a Beretta 9mm! I'm so super stoked that I can't even describe it. I love this fucking gun and everything about it. And I haven't even shot it yet! I mean, yeah, I've shot a 9mm, but I haven't shot Clyde. I just love the feel of it, the weight, the smell of the oil and the feel of pulling back the slide. I am, as you might say, enamored.

...or else it gets the hose again

Blah-dow
Upstairs Kid and I went to the gun range on Saturday, this time to shoot pistols. It was a different range and we had to rent the guns so it was like going for my first time all over again. I shot a 22 mm revolver, a 9mm, and a 45mm. First things first, I'll just let you know right now that I'm a crap shot. I was originally shooting at a distance that was pretty ridiculous for a beginner and my aim improved when UK brought the target closer. The easiest to shoot, of course, was the revolver, since it felt very much like firing a cap gun. The 9mm was the hardest for me because I felt like I had very little control. Oddly, it was the 45 that was my favorite and, of course, the one I shot the least. As I said, we had to rent the guns from the location and they were old and not in very good shape. The 45 kept jamming and by then I had a headache and had been freezing the entire time we were there. But I had good control on it and I liked the power. And let's face it, it feels bad ass to casually comment on having shot a few pistols over the weekend and finding I have a preference for the 45 (the one I shot is a Colt 1910, I believe). We just won't talk about how weird forearm muscles hurt in my right arm because I'm such a pussy and a weakling.

Like the Wolf

I also read The Hunger Games over the weekend because I give into peer pressure and cultural zeitgeist. I really enjoyed the book and look forward to seeing the movie one day but I'm more interested in two pieces of negative criticism the movie has received from certain fans. The first is the mild outrage amongst those who disagreed with casting the characters of Rue and Thresh with African Americans. Uhm, Rue is described as having dark skin and hair so what were you expecting? Also, I think you dropped your racism. One person evidently 'tweeted' that it kind of ruined the movie for him/her. Really? Rue is an endearing character and I don't want to make it seem like she wasn't important but she wasn't exactly the Luke Skywalker of the film if you know what I mean.

More disturbing, in my opinion, is the criticism of the actress who played Katniss Everdeen*. Some commented that the character in the book is emaciated and starving and that Lawrence (I think that is the actress's last name) was too 'robust' to be believable. What the fuck? Do you really expect and actress to starve herself until she is emaciated so that you aren't disappointed and can lose yourself in the story? OK, so some actors like Matt Damon and Christian Bale have gone to ridiculous lengths with that shit and actresses have as well, but I'm sorry, women and young girls have enough societal pressure to be rail thin without people whining about a thin actress being too big to play a fictional character. You know they didn't really kill anyone in the film right? Does that take away from your ability to enjoy it?

Soap box dismounted.

*I'm not proud of it, but every time I read Katniss, I automatically think cat piss.

Be a bit less cool, will you?

I know I'm a it of a dork and I'm fine with it but every so often I get to do something that others might find banal and tedious and I absolutely revel in it. BFF understands this to a point, because she and I share a certain affinity for technical writing. One of those things I got to do recently was revise a CV. Actually, BFF sent me hers to proof read and I returned it with minimal changes because, like I said, she's into technical writing so she knows what she's doing. In fact, she's proofed my resume on a number of occasions and I was gratified the last time when she had very minute comments/changes to be made. More fun was revising Hunter's CV because he'd never had anyone really look at it for him and so there was a lot for me to do. How ridiculous is it to get excited and spend hours of your free time cleaning up tenses, rewording things, and then putting together a few notes on why the changes were necessary? I don't know if he predicted how seriously I would take the task when he originally sent me his document, but I spent a few hours on it, had two teleconferences with him about it, and have given him two assignments to complete before we can consider his CV done. He's been very receptive and has thanked me for putting in the effort though so I don't feel like I've overstepped any boundaries by chastising him for not having had input from someone sooner. 

The other nerdy thing I got to do involved expense reporting. My company uses a certain program for travel and expense and it isn't always straightforward. Whilst I'm not a big fan of the travel part, I do love doing expense reports for my boss, especially when they are a bit involved or tricky. He doesn't travel much these days so I don't get to have much fun, but this morning a friend asked me a question about how to reflect a rate change during a multiple day stay at a hotel and so I got to delve into his report figuring it out. I'd done it before but it was quite some time ago so it took me a couple of minutes to figure it out. I think I enjoy that sort of thing because it makes me feel competent. Technically, I'm only really supposed to be an administrator for my boss in this program but I've been named as such by about five people. Being so sadly non-visual is part of that reason. You can ask me how to do something that I know how to do but unless I do it myself, I'm unable to explain it. This morning I figured out the puzzle and then called my friend to walk him through it. It's nice of me and all, to help people out with their expense reporting when it isn't my responsibility, but, as I say, I'm a huge dork and I get something from it.

I only wish I'd been like this when I was in school because it probably would have come in handy way before I needed to book travel and expense $2.34 receipts. And don't get me wrong, I'm not one of those grammar people who judge others for ending sentences in prepositions. And I certainly do not speak the King's English or anything like that. I just enjoy the challenge and am flattered when people entrust me with something like a resume. And whatever, some people like Nascar, others like Civil War reenactments, and I like expense reporting. We are all dorky in our own way. 

Except for Sherlock Holmes. That mother fucker is just badass.