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Wake up wake up wake up! Why is it so hard to stay awake at work on Fridays? Ooooff. I am not into work today. As if I am into work on other days. I�m not. I got about an hour of solid sleep surrounded by four hours of semi-conscious muttering and turning over and over and over. Nickolas tried to drink some lamp oil last night, and the wonderful friendly CALM man at Poison Control (you rule, Jerome!) told me that as long as he doesn�t start coughing (and thus introducing the lamp oil into his lungs), he will be fine. He will just poop it all out in the morning, along with anything else that happened to be in there. My entire night was spent straining to hear him breathing from my bed, which is about five feet from his crib. My dreams were all tinged with the red glow of the decorative chili-pepper lights that we use as a nightlight. I can�t sleep if it�s pitch-black, I am quite terrified of the dark. This morning, of course, Nickolas was fine, and I was a mess. Am a mess. My eyes are wanting so badly to close, close, close and all the playing around on the internet and emailing strangers in the world cannot keep them open. I�m hoping all the thinking (ha!) that goes into recording my thoughts will help keep me awake. Nick just called. He has been looking into jobs in Arizona, and he called the union out there to check work availability and all that crap, and found out that yes, there is plenty of work, but journeymen only make a little over twenty an hour out there. Fuck that, they make over thirty here! So he�s dropping out of the union and cashing in his retirement fund that he has through them, which is an extra five thousand or so that we�ll have in a few months. Kick ass. I bet he spends it on something really stupid. My page is so narrow. Why? I can�t grasp the html. Brain hurts. I cannot wait for this new girl at work to start so I can set my evil plan in motion. I am going to train her not only on reception, but to do my job as well. Then when I announce my imminent departure, my replacement will already be trained and ready to go, making the transition smooth for all involved. My plan isn�t really evil at all. It�s actually a very thoughtful and considerate plan, except for the (minor) deception involved. Why am I speaking so formally? I don�t fucking know. I never get an opportunity to showcase my vocabulary what with the stupid pothead hippies I have to hang out with. If only I had friends of my own, that weren�t Nick�s friends�every time I get a friend, they leave. Like K moving first to Georgia, coming back, and then moving to South Carolina. Or C moving to Arizona. But if it wasn�t for C moving to Arizona I wouldn�t be moving there at all, so thank you for the inspiration. When I run into my friends from high school (at the bar, always), it�s like I don�t even know why I hung out with them in the first place. We have so little in common now I can�t imagine ever being the way they are. I am conscious of the fact that it is me that has changed, with the kids and the husband and the job and all, and I am amazed that they haven�t grown up at all. Most of them don�t even have full time jobs. How do they afford to have rockin� bachelor pad apartments (most of my friends were guys) and kickass trucks if they don�t work? That kind of stuff is expensive around here. And what did I ever see in these guys? Ugh. That just brings me back to what a slutty little slut I was then. Yuck, some really bad choices. At least I made one good choice. Marrying Nick was a good thing, no matter how much I go over it in my head. I love him, and I think he loves me. No matter how much he talks about all the other whores he fucks, I know that�s just the MGD making him think that I�d find that funny. He�s really not that bad. Gosh, I get so defensive about him. Hey, I got in on the first try to post this! This day is looking up! Kids are: Last person who pissed me off: Heard in my house: Miss Anything? pics - 2007-06-05
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