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Today's post brought to you by Excedrin
Jun. 22nd, 2010 01:29 pmImp's tech support, how may I help you?
Which is hilarious if you know my way of getting along with technology is to place blue beads on top of the computer to ward away the Evil... and then I threaten things. "Work or you dance with the sledgehammer, dammit!" This is why I do not make fun of the photo specialist who is pretty much holding the lab together by duct tape, even though I gather other people would do things differently. I am sort of the same way, although if you tell me I don't need the sledgehammer and show me the alternative, I'll switch.
But in the end, violence is my answer. Or something.
Apparently at work there's this massive thing on money laundering and you have to pass this test. Just about everyone has failed it twice. I got a headache just hearing about it. Tonight I have this to look forward to.
So I begin my mantra: Just two weeks til vacation. Two of each day and I'm free. Two. Weeks. Next week is going to kind of suck because one of my coworkers is going on vacation which means I have to do the cigarette count all on my own and looking at the rest of the year, with the exception of October, which I would have taken off anyway, cig count falls on my nights. JOY. Meh. TWO WEEKS.
Now, to yesterday's annoyances.
Our washer died sometime last week. Maybe late the week before. Whatever. I did the essentials in the sink and yesterday the boy was sent to the laundromat with quite a few loads of laundry to do, as well as money to do them. He didn't leave until late afternoon, and when he came home, I was dead freakin' tired so I was not on my A game. He asks me if I'll just keep throwing clothes in the dryer and that the rest are in the garage. He NEVER mentions that some of them weren't done. I grab mine as the fourth load (the first two were definitely his and Widget's) and notice that they seem a little too dry, BUT tell myself that they're the smallest load and that they've been sitting there for hours, and since most of the stuff is meant to dry quickly anyway... I let it slide.
Dinner time comes and goes and goes again. Eventually the boy goes out and gets Burger King for people. Before he leaves, he asks if I'll eat BK. I tell him no. I try not to say it in a bitchy way, but BK makes me ill. I don't know if it still does, but a few years ago it made me violently ill and thus I choose not to eat there anymore. He says he's not going to McDonald's because there's not enough money for gas or something. It's 8:30 at night, I've been up since 2am... I am not fully tracking.
But it's okay because I have lasagna in the freezer and I'll just make it when I wake up. I'm still miffed that hello, no freakin' dinner, but he did do my laundry.
No. No he did not. This morning I took my shower and grabbed my white shirt and noticed it seemed a little... not as bright as it should have been had it been cleaned. And then I remembered Mom being pissed that the boy hadn't washed her sheets and that there was at least a second load he hadn't washed.
Oh no, I think. No, no, no, no, NO. He wouldn't. These are my work clothes. The rest of you are currently without... No. You wouldn't.
He would. He did. Or didn't, as the case may be. He didn't wash my damn clothes. He didn't tell me, so I dried them but they weren't washed. It was NOT a pleasant discovery.
Luckily my headache has worn off, so I'm going to have my very late lasagna and go to bed. Oh, and yesterday after the thunderstorm but before the laundry, I ordered my birthday present. I went with an AG Ivy and Lanie's night shirt because the cute. Oh, the cute. The hard part will be deciding whether to wait for my birthday to open her, or the beginning of my vacation. What to do...
Which is hilarious if you know my way of getting along with technology is to place blue beads on top of the computer to ward away the Evil... and then I threaten things. "Work or you dance with the sledgehammer, dammit!" This is why I do not make fun of the photo specialist who is pretty much holding the lab together by duct tape, even though I gather other people would do things differently. I am sort of the same way, although if you tell me I don't need the sledgehammer and show me the alternative, I'll switch.
But in the end, violence is my answer. Or something.
Apparently at work there's this massive thing on money laundering and you have to pass this test. Just about everyone has failed it twice. I got a headache just hearing about it. Tonight I have this to look forward to.
So I begin my mantra: Just two weeks til vacation. Two of each day and I'm free. Two. Weeks. Next week is going to kind of suck because one of my coworkers is going on vacation which means I have to do the cigarette count all on my own and looking at the rest of the year, with the exception of October, which I would have taken off anyway, cig count falls on my nights. JOY. Meh. TWO WEEKS.
Now, to yesterday's annoyances.
Our washer died sometime last week. Maybe late the week before. Whatever. I did the essentials in the sink and yesterday the boy was sent to the laundromat with quite a few loads of laundry to do, as well as money to do them. He didn't leave until late afternoon, and when he came home, I was dead freakin' tired so I was not on my A game. He asks me if I'll just keep throwing clothes in the dryer and that the rest are in the garage. He NEVER mentions that some of them weren't done. I grab mine as the fourth load (the first two were definitely his and Widget's) and notice that they seem a little too dry, BUT tell myself that they're the smallest load and that they've been sitting there for hours, and since most of the stuff is meant to dry quickly anyway... I let it slide.
Dinner time comes and goes and goes again. Eventually the boy goes out and gets Burger King for people. Before he leaves, he asks if I'll eat BK. I tell him no. I try not to say it in a bitchy way, but BK makes me ill. I don't know if it still does, but a few years ago it made me violently ill and thus I choose not to eat there anymore. He says he's not going to McDonald's because there's not enough money for gas or something. It's 8:30 at night, I've been up since 2am... I am not fully tracking.
But it's okay because I have lasagna in the freezer and I'll just make it when I wake up. I'm still miffed that hello, no freakin' dinner, but he did do my laundry.
No. No he did not. This morning I took my shower and grabbed my white shirt and noticed it seemed a little... not as bright as it should have been had it been cleaned. And then I remembered Mom being pissed that the boy hadn't washed her sheets and that there was at least a second load he hadn't washed.
Oh no, I think. No, no, no, no, NO. He wouldn't. These are my work clothes. The rest of you are currently without... No. You wouldn't.
He would. He did. Or didn't, as the case may be. He didn't wash my damn clothes. He didn't tell me, so I dried them but they weren't washed. It was NOT a pleasant discovery.
Luckily my headache has worn off, so I'm going to have my very late lasagna and go to bed. Oh, and yesterday after the thunderstorm but before the laundry, I ordered my birthday present. I went with an AG Ivy and Lanie's night shirt because the cute. Oh, the cute. The hard part will be deciding whether to wait for my birthday to open her, or the beginning of my vacation. What to do...
