Beers and downtime is good good good.

Today at work I decided I must have beers tonight.  God bless Paulie who didn’t even touch the 6-pack of tasty Sams I purchased solely for him for dinner night last week.  I’m getting my drink on.   Yes, alone.  Does that make me an alcoholic?  Is it better if I say a friend’s coming by for dinner in a bit?

Drinking is necessary because we’re in the middle of a move at work that is chaos incarnate.  The skies before the Big Bang and all.  Everything is in crates and stickered to find our new booths in our new office (booths indeed!).  I am very fortunate to have a salesman who was set to have a space next to a window and gave it up to me, saying I’m in the office more often than he is so why have it be wasted.  My co-worker Angela will be seated right behind me and she’s wicked cool.  She’s the one I have to call every other day on my way home from work and say, “d’oh! I left my damn iPod on my desk again; will you please put it up so the cleaning crew doesn’t take it?”   I promised to make a big colorful sign to hang at my new spot next week that says: Take your damn iPod home!

I had to take down my station today.  I have a laptop but the first thing I did when I got there a year and a half ago was “steal” a monitor/keyboard/mouse and set up the dual monitor thing.  Why others don’t do this with the extra equipment is beyond me.  It’s a sweet setup.  Phones are also down and they’re taking down our spaces tomorrow - everything needs to be all set to move by 10am.  It’s a cluster.  Nay, a cluster and a half.  But it should be worth it.  The new place should hopefully have hot water in the bathrooms at least (I know! ewww, right?).  And not have people chasing each other across the parking lot with guns.  I’m not kidding.

Work has been…challenging at best, I guess.  I’m in this huge Catch-22 where I’ve always had to do everything on my own and in my own way because no one does exactly what I do.  But then everyone’s been complaining that “Stacy gets to do whatever she wants.”  Yeah, that’s not exactly right.  If I got to do whatever I wanted, I’d come in at about 10, lunch at about noon, and leave no later than 3.  I do what I do because I have to in order to get things done.   

Now I’m being called on it, so I’m supposed to follow the rules.  At the same time, I’m trying to assume some new responsibilities, still do my own, and have to do the other people’s that I’ve been doing because they’re not.  I’m told to just let them do their job; it’s *their* responsibility.  That is so well and good in theory, but when it doesn’t get done, it’s my head on a plate, so what’s a girl to do?

In any case, this is not to bitch about my job.  Actually, just as I was in an exhausted state today, a co-worker from our Dallas plant just randomly IM’d me today and said he just wanted to let me know that from what he’s heard I was doing a really good job taking over some of the new things I’ve been doing.  Is it just absolutely sad that something as small as that changed my outlook on everything and gave me enough to keep going again?  :)

Needless to say, I finally bit the bullet and updated my resume.  I’m not really wanting to leave.  I’m hoping this move will help just spur my drive again.   I really do like what I do; I’m just tired of feeling so lost and overwhelmed.  The whole: what’s in this for me? kind of thing.  Maybe that’s also helped ground me a little too.  Not that I’m looking, but that if I have to, I’m ready to.

Puppy update!  She’s doing very well.  She went back to the doctor today and he took off her bandage and left it off.  I need to get a picture of all them pretty blue staples and stitches!  She’s at the neighbor’s now while I’m typing away — they offered to watch her a bit and I figured since I would be typing and not playing, why not?   I’ll tell you though: that little girl has my number.  Last night, she curled up next to me in bed and put her poor little wrapped-up paw over my ribs and fell asleep.  I didn’t move for two straight hours for fear of disturbing her.   Which was really unfortunately, considering “Age of Love” was stuck on the TV.

Are we not done with these dating reality show pieces of crap yet?  In this one, some dude has to decide between these 40 year olds (who look like they’re 30) and these 20 year olds (who act like they’re 13), this whole pitch between “old” and “young.” What?! 40’s old?! Are you KIDDING ME?  And he’s all: wow, I never dated someone that old… yeah, whatever.  And of course the 20 something with the biggest most awful fake boobs ever was kept to stay.  Ugh!  I’m so sorry, pup, but next time you are so getting disturbed.  I can’t believe I even watched that crap.

So that’d be it tonight, folks.  Tomorrow after work I’ll be cleaning up this place and having it all set for my friends’ return on Thursday.  And back to home I’ll be!  My poor kids there are probably hating me by now for not being around (and by kids I mean cats, of course.  After a “cowlicky” puppy last night, I now am so set to never want kids!).  This weekend my friend Dee will be celebrating not only a new birthyear but a new job and I can’t wait to celebrate with her.  And get some photos up. 

Good evenings to you all!  MWAH!