Sunday, April 10, 2011

This
plus this


equals this


SIGH. Unbelievably, there is minimal damage. There's a dent just above the tire and the sideview mirror frame is scraped. There's a minuscule ding in the driver's door and a wee scrape on the windshield. Also, there was no mail in the cage so nothing got lost, no one was hurt and no other vehicles were damaged. It could have been a lot worse. And the post office will pay to get it fixed, which I don't expect to cost a huge amount since the damage is so minor. Still, I have to go get three estimates and then wait for them to approve it, and then clean out my car so I'm not mortified to take it in to get fixed, and then actually get it fixed. It's a hassle.

So there's that, and also I see a root canal in my immediate future, given the excruciating pain that comes and goes in my teeth. And today I caught my high heels on a step at church and went down. Not hard, and I came away with a bad scrape on my elbow (eww carpet burn) and one on the top of my left foot.

This is not my week.

Monday, March 28, 2011

It's after 1:30 am and I'm still awake, recording samples to make a demo CD that will hopefully lead to another job. Which could mean moving to Michigan, I don't know. I've got some good ones so far, and hopefully these last few won't sound as though I'm half-asleep. Or drugged.

I spent most of last week home in my PJs. It was wonderful, and going back to work yesterday (well, Saturday) was one of the hardest things I've done in quite awhile. Fortunately I don't go back until Tuesday. Fortunately I'm on my favorite route all week. I'm not sure how much longer I can put up with the laziness, and the excuses, and the passive aggressive bullshit. The attitude that "hey, since my job is secure, I don't have to actually do anything. I'll do the absolute least amount of work I can possibly get away with." We seriously have two guys there who are essentially being paid to stand around and drink coffee or energy drinks all day, in between their breaks and lunch. It's ludicrous. And no one cares, because there's nothing anyone can (or will) do about it. I wasn't raised to be that way. I watched my dad's hard work growing up. I learned that if you're going to do something, do your best and do it right. I learned that anything less than a full day's work for a full day's pay is dishonest. When I left the house to go to work, my dad would always say "be a hard worker". And I've managed to fall into an industry where the union has created an environment that fosters the exact opposite attitude. And it frustrates me no end.

The postmaster loves me. Probably in part because I actually work hard and do my job. He also seems to get a kick out of my sarcasm and snark, but that's a different story. He made me promise to stay until he retires. In 2016. He said once that if he ever transferred I was going with him. I started in a different office years ago, and after I had quit to finish my degree (it's impossible to get a history degree with a full-time day job) my boss up north hired my brother because he was my brother. And because he had learned from our parents to be a hard worker, he didn't let me down. My boss told my dad once that if any of his other kids needed a job, he'd love to hire them. Because of my work ethic, and my brother's work ethic.

I went back to the post office after graduating. When I put in for a transfer, the postmaster called that old boss because he knew from my records where I'd worked, and the two of them were friends. He said "Tell me about this Joslyn - should I take her on?" My boss said - direct quote - "Oh hell yes!"

Two of the greatest - possibly the greatest - compliments I've ever received. And now I'm working with union people who go out of their way - and frequently create more work for themselves in the process - just to not do their jobs completely or correctly.

It's driving me crazy. I tell my few friends there at work that this job has broken my give-a-damn. I wish that were actually true. I'm getting there.

Tuesday, March 15, 2011

My neighbors are the worst parents ever. It's nearly 11:00. Your children should be IN BED. I don't care if it IS spring break. SERIOUSLY.

Wednesday, March 2, 2011

Apparently I am not having surgery any time in the next six weeks after all. I have to try ergonomic things and a padded brace first. I had psyched myself up to get cut open and was really actually looking forward to time off work, and now I don't know how to feel.

Tuesday, February 22, 2011

I have, the last week or so, become almost obsessively aware of my own mortality.

Thursday, February 17, 2011

Mom wants me to wait and have my surgery the first week of April. She has time off work then, and can come down and help me. And, no. I love Mom, I really do, and I know she loves me and wants to help, and I know she's worried about this operation (although I'm not sure why she's as worried as she seems to be) and she's welcome in my home any time, but she's not welcome to clean it. And she's not welcome to make comments about it. And there's not going to be a lot for her to do, and she'll get bored, and clean even after I've explicitly told her no. And besides, I don't want to wait that long because my hand is numb!

Sunday, February 13, 2011

Bleh.