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�The Law of the Jungle lays down very clearly that any wolf may, when he marries, withdraw from the Pack he belongs to. But as soon as his cubs are old enough to stand on their feet he must bring them to the Pack Council, which is generally held once a month at full moon, in order that the other wolves may identify them. After that inspection the cubs are free to run where they please, and until they have killed their first buck no excuse is accepted if a grown wolf of the Pack kills one of them. The punishment is death where the murderer can be found; and if you think for a minute you will see that this must be so.� That was at the bottom of some spam I got this morning. The spam was about refinancing my house. Weird, isn�t it? Anyway, once again I�m at my desk surrounded by a whole lot of things I should be doing, but I can�t force myself to actually do. This is an increasingly large problem in my work life. My heart just isn�t in it, and I�m tired of pretending it is. They really should hire someone else to do this job, someone with enthusiasm who can stay awake and on task for longer than fifteen minutes at a time. I don�t know how much longer I can stick around here. It�s both easier and a whole lot harder to leave now that everyone else has jumped ship. I�ll feel terrible quitting when they don�t really have all the new people trained yet, but in the same vein, it will be easier to train a bunch of people at once, don�t you think? I�m just making excuses, trying not to feel bad, but I have to do it. I�m killing myself here. But what are we going to do about money if I quit? I can�t just stop making money. For God�s sake, I�ll never get out of my parents� basement that way! (Every time I think about the fact that I live in my parents� basement, I get tears in my eyes. Just thought I�d share that.) I have to find a way to come up with a bunch of money, fast, and just get to Arizona and figure it out from there. I don�t want to be here another minute, let alone another two months. Can you tell I�m having a terrible day? I woke up this morning with this thought in my head: I don�t like the way my life has turned out. Not a pleasant thought for 5:00 in the morning, and it got worse from there. I didn�t even feel like listening to music on the way to work. That is a huge indicator that something is awry in my world. I have a twelve-minute drive between the sitter�s house and work, and those twelve minutes, twice a day, are the only time I am ever completely by myself. Ever. (Think about that for a minute. Then realize why I�m nuts.) I usually use that time to blast my music at near-deafening volume and let the bass rattle my brain until it feels mushy and I�m all glassy-eyed and ready for work. (A favorite before work is �Fucking Hostile� by Pantera. Gets me in the mindset to service the customers.) Today, however, I just stared at the radio dial and turned it down a little. Then, five minutes later, I realized that I had been listening to Mancow, and I didn�t even recoil in horror. I just shrugged and turned the radio off. I don�t think I have ever ridden in a car that had a working radio without it being on, but this morning, it was all about me and the silence. Not even eating an entire avocado for breakfast has been able to cheer me up. (For some, chocolate is comfort food. For me, it�s avocados.) In fact, I�m already hungry again and it�s only been three hours. I can�t win for losing today. Speaking of the sitter (at least I think I was), I asked Lukas the other night what he had done at her house that day. He told me, �I was playing with the blue car, and I was crying, and Holly hit me.� (Holly being the babysitter.) I asked him, �Why did Holly hit you?� He said, �Because I was crying.� So I hugged him until he started to fall asleep, and then I flew downstairs to tell Nick, who insisted (of course) that I ask her about it the next morning. I did, and she said she had no idea what he was talking about, claiming that she didn�t even have a blue car. Then, when I picked them up yesterday afternoon, one of the other kids was sobbing hysterically and Holly was telling her to put something back. Another kid told me that she had taken a die-cast model of a semi-truck (Holly�s husband�s) and hit Lukas over the head with it. So I looked, and sure enough, there was a bump on his head. I asked Holly why Tina (little girl) was crying, and she said it was because she yelled at her. I asked her for what, and she said, �For messing with Ed�s trucks.� She didn�t even mention that Lukas had gotten hit in the head with an eighteen-inch die-cast metal truck. AND THEN, when I got the kids home, I kept smelling poop on Nickolas, and I kept checking his diaper, but it was clean. When I took off his clothes to put him in the bathtub, there was poop (like an entire turd, sorry for the image) smeared on the OUTSIDE of the diaper, and stuck to the inside of his pants. I hadn�t changed him (obviously) since I got home, so guess where that had to happen? I�m guessing he had an accident and she just put him back in his pants, with the poop still in there. I was flaming pissed, and I was running so late this morning that I didn�t have time to say anything to her. I can�t afford anyone else. I hate my job. I want to stay home with my kids. I can�t afford to. I am so tired of this shit I could scream, and it�s not getting better. People who say I�m strong don�t really know me. Kids are: Last person who pissed me off: Heard in my house: Miss Anything? pics - 2007-06-05
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