9-27-05 no one to talk to

Realizations - When the chips are down I have no one to talk to.
When I am confused or conflicted, the closest thing I have to a shoulder
is a group of strangers - and I don't want to burden them with my
internal confusions. I want to play to them. I want to act as though I am fine.

I got a job offer. I sent my resume. I considered it. I became troubled by my decision to acknowledge
the offer.
I like my job. I like it a lot. It's close to home. It's non-intrusive. I don't hate waking up every
day. This is a good job. BUT it doesn't pay the bills and I am drowning. DROWNING!!!!

I told him "I'll just have to get a second job." his response was "Whatever" like it was a dare.
(Yeah sure, you won't do it.) But I don't have a choice. We are broke. We are backsliding deeper into debt.

We have NOTHING to fall back on. (unless I sell his crap- but that income won't pay OUR bills. I pay our bills.)

If I told her, all I would hear is (oh yeah, well my problems are so much worse than yours.
I'm dying from the inside out. I'm one big mystery ailment.(hypochondriac))

My Mother thinks I should go back to the old life. "You were so good at it."
It was killing me. It gave me ulcers. It took most of the joy from my life. It took most
everything from my life. I don't want it back.

My Father would just agree with me - or maybe he would agree with Mom.
My brother thinks money comes first.
My sister doesn't work and doesn't understand.

How to stop smoking

Both of my parents smoked when I was young.
My mother quit at 33 or so. She quit because we didn't have the money and she just decided she didn't need them. Cold turkey.
Oh, how I wish I could do the same.

My father quit a few years back. He required Wellbutrin to do it, but he was successful and has not smoked since. Go Dad!!

It is my turn. It is high time. I am obsessing about the need to stop.
Here are my reasons to quit: (aside from the obvious health issues)

#1 - $4.04/pack * 365 packs = $1474.60/26 paychecks=$56.71 per check or $122.88/month.
#2 - I hate the smell on my clothes and in my house.
#3 - Imagine the money I'll save on tooth whitening products and air fresheners.
#4 - I'm just plain tired of them.
#5 - The lungs regnerate once a person quits. I've heard that in 3 years the lungs are completely new. Oh to be rid of the cough.
#6 - I do not want my voice to change to "gravelly old woman"
#7 - I don't want to feel so tired and winded all the time.
#8 - I would like to taste food again....like it should taste.
#9 - I've been embarrassed by it more than once.
#10 - Choice of restaurants.
#11 - My muscles will ache less.
#12 - Going outside to smoke at my family's houses.
#13 - Influencing my nephews.

There are more reasons. I should make myself come up with 20 or 30.


EXCUSES why I haven't quit yet (things to overcome):
#1 - I do not have a replacement habit, and that cannot be food. And it must be something socially acceptable so I can have it anywhere.
#2 - My hubby smokes. (that's a hard one to overcome - they're too available)
#3 - Stress
#4 - Breaks at work (I need these for the stress.)
#5 - Triggers (coffee, beer, food, toothpaste, bedtime, stress, boredom)
#6 - My doc refuses to give me any type of medical assistance for this. I once thought, "Dad used Wellbutrin so I'll just go get some". Doc was all, "Nope. Too bad. Do it without assistance." What's up with that? I'm not a drug addict! SHEESH.
#7 - I will not use The Patch because I saw it kill a man.
#8 - All the other assistance substances are nasty. Tobacco gum. Ptooie. What happens if I get addicted to tobacco gum? Besides, I swallow gum. Wouldn't that be awful?!

Men do not see dust

Why can't men see dust? Are they genetically deficient? Is their eyesight somehow unable to take in the color variation caused by the light haze of a coat of dust?
Do the commercials for Endust and Pledge just confound them to no end?
Are they, possibly, comforted by the dust? Does it make them feel as if they have ancient antiques about them? Are they somehow "richer" for it?

When Swiffer came out with the Swiffer Duster I thought I had died and gone to heaven. I can dust things ABOVE MY HEAD. Things I cannot even see. How great is that??
My husband thought I was insane. He remarked, as he often does when I go on cleaning binges, "You've gone crazy!".
This concerns me.

By no means am I an efficient housewife. I dispise cleaning, regardless of my obsessive-compulsive need for everythings to be disinfected. I am, however, entirely repulsed by the ability to write my name on his nightstand with my finger. AAAAaaaaa! That's disgusting.

Men, if you want to turn your woman on, buy a Swiffer Duster and CLEAN SOMETHING.

Missing work

There are 52 weeks in a year. A standard work-week is 5 days.
52*5=260 days
There are 7 (or so) standard holidays in a year.
260-7=253
Paid vacation days usually total 5 to 10 days/year.
Let's take the high-side for the purpose of the following discussion.
243 days/year a person is expected to work.

People who miss work annoy me. I can understand if the missing is caused by a legitimate illness. I am not unsympathetic.

HOWEVER, I know a number of people who abuse the system. One person I know misses EVERY Monday. So much so that her supervisor made the comment "She won't be in today. She never feels well on Mondays." Furthermore, she will then take a day or two the same week to attend a function that her daughter is involved in. Do schools really schedule functions during the workday? This makes no sense to me.

Another girl that I know has not worked a full week this year. Every time I turn around she has taken another day for some fictitious ailment. Every headache is a migraine. Every tummy ache is an ulcer. Every pain requires a battery of tests that require more days off or more leaving early.

I once had an employee who missed more than 3 months of work. None of it consecutively. Most of it for false reasons. He was a great employee...when he was there. To add insult to injury, his kids were his excuse to stay home. Top that with the fact that his wife did not work. She was home with the kids.

All of these people rant about the review they never get because they expect raises.
When they get their reviews they are shocked that their employer doesn't see them as an exemplary employee. They are shocked that their raises, if any, are minimal.
SHOCKED!

I have never met one of these people who had any idea the impact of their absence.

I am that diligent worker who takes up the slack. I am the one who is always there. I am the one who feels guilty when I take one day off because I worry about my co-workers having to shoulder my load.
Trust that I hold a grudge.

I have also noticed that the younger set has very little work ethic when it comes to time off.

And another thing, the younger set doesn't seem to have much sense. (Is this me getting older?) We've gone through a number of temps who do not know how to FILE.
What's up with that? What kind of common sense do you have to lack for FILING to be confusing? "I'm not even going to think about what they're NOT teaching you in school."
Sigh. That's a whole different rant!

Twisted Word Verification

WTF is the deal with the twisted word verification? I wholly get the idea that random letters eliminate spam from my website. I do not, however, understand why they must be twisted. Is it possible that spammer programs do not have the ability to read these letters as long as they are distorted?

It's good to know that all the legitimate commenters are crosseyed-squinters like myself.
Furthermore, I invariably get stuck with the long ones. 8 letters or more. I assure you that I have fouled up more than one attempt.
Dyslexics - you have my deepest sympathy.

The photo is about two years old. I'm dressing up my baby sister for her wedding day. She's the pretty one but you can only see the back of her head. lol

Second Job

How the hell am I going to work two jobs? I get off the first one at 6p.m.
Will I work from 7p.m. until Midnight?? What will I do? Bag groceries? Drugstore?
I don't know. All I do know is that I'm going to be very, very tired.

It wasn't supposed to be like this.

I'm so angry about our economy. Not just the hurricane, not just the war. The whole political, bullshit, unbalanced, recession economy. I'm sick as all hell at the DENIAL of it. I'm sick as hell of George W. Bush dodging and ducking and a billion or so people still standing behind him. He looks and acts like a badly handled puppet.

I want to scream at the top of my lungs until I'm out of breath. IT DOESN'T HAVE TO BE LIKE THIS. IT NEVER DID.

Shhhhhhhhhhh....I'm not supposed to talk about it. I'm not supposed to have opinions. I'm not supposed to FEEL it.
I'm supposed to be sympathetic to our causes.

I CAN NOT find the middle ground in any of it. It is personal and it is NOT personal. It is SO not about me or us or ANY of us. It is so fucking about him and them! I dare the man to walk a mile in my shoes. I DARE ANY OF THEM. We are backsliding so badly that I am awaiting the moment of seperation. That second when the middle class is entirely split into rich and poor. Think food stamps. Think food LINES.

Am I crazy? Am I extremist? I sure as hell hope I'm just being pessimistic. We'll see.

Regrets

I'm giving up dreams again. I had the money. I found the drawing table of my dreams. I watched it slide right through my fingers too. There are too many things between it and me. Too many things that must be before silly, selfish wishes can be fulfilled.

Let it go. Again. (THAT brought me to tears. I guess I didn't realize how much hope I had for it this time.)

There are other things I wanted; Plane tickets for my hubby so he could go home for Thanksgiving. A new belt for the truck and maybe a tuneup so I can go see that beautiful nephew of mine.
A phone for the house that won't die in the middle of a conversation with Mom. That 80 gig hard drive Dad and I talked about. A catpost that will allow the cats to climb up and down from the bed without fear of breaking a fragile old ankle. The ability to drive to my friends house and back without fear of an empty tank I can't refill. There are other things.

Amassing Debt

We have not been in debt for 11 years. All bills were paid...in full...every month. I am struggling so desperately to keep us...what? To keep us from scratching each other's eyes out, I think.


This is what it looks like today:
Removal of Lymph Node (January) $2,000+ (paying to multiple entities, all currently in arears)
Emergency Root Canal (July) $600 Every penny going on the only credit card with room on it.
Vet bills (September) Pooh's tooth - I had $263 in my bank account. The bill...$265. It went on the card too. We've got to eat. The surgery will be much more. What to do??
Birthdays (September) His and mine. He says "I don't want anything." but I've never NOT gotten him anything and we really only have each other. I will scrape up some money, somehow. I will not let the gift slide.
Family None of our family lives here. I have no idea how we're going to see them for the holidays this year. I can't send him home to NC. I can't drive to Houston to see my family with gas so blasted high.
And Speaking of Gas Both credit cards are well over $700 each. I can barely pay the minimums at 28% interest. We're paying cash for gas now...in $20 increments. I should invest in a bike and ride to work.


Of course, there are a lot of other problems. I have a loan I took out a few years back. I'm still paying that. We both have car payments since his car literally died and mine broke a front axel. Necessity. (and we were damned frugal with the new cars!)


I want desperately to consolidate the whole mess under one loan. Problem: No collateral. None. We own nothing. There is nothing to refinance. We are living on a cash only basis.

Things I must do: Quit smoking this week. Get a second job. Pay everyone off.
Christmas is gonna suck, huh?

Trust that I kick myself for worrying about this constantly. Who am I to complain when so many have lost so much. (But stuffing it down only makes it grow. It's becoming such a freaking monster!)

Subcutaneous Fluids

"The cat is diabetic. That's why he's lost so much weight. You can choose to give him insulin twice a day for the rest of his life or we can put him down for you. That'll be seven hundred dollars."
That's what the vet said five years ago. I said "For seven hundred dollars, the cat will live." That vet was a schmuck. Degrading and rude and somewhat heartless for a man of his profession. It matters not.
We panicked. We read. We learned. We restored him to kitten-like health and we have watched every morsel he has eaten ever since. We attempted home glucose readings. We learned about charting his levels. We learned about meds he can't take and the effect of everything on his liver. Everything, including the ingestion of bugs. Not kidding.
We boarded him once, to nearly disasterous ends. We have not taken a vacation together since. One of us is always home to inject twice daily. Our plans ALWAYS include 12hr time-frames.
I love that cat. I love him deeply and wholly and unconditionally. I have no regrets. I've gained five years so far.


Now he is ill. He is 15yrs old and he has a severely abcessed tooth. (puss...ack!) He will not eat or drink. He is in pain.
We took him to the vet. We had a good visit. Antibiotics and pain meds and plans to have the tooth (and probably a few others) removed under general anesthesia. Bloodwork was required....and then something new. Something I have NOT researched or prepared for. Subcutaneous fluids.
This is a bizarre thing. The cat is dehydrated. Fluids are injected under the skin and the body slowly absorbs them. No drinking required. This causes a large "balloon" of liquid from the back of his ribcage to his neck and down one leg. And the vet says "it doesn't hurt him". How do they know this?
It can't possibly feel GOOD. Poor kitty.

Well, regardless, we are learning how to pop pills and liquid antibiotics down the throat of an animal who thinks we are doing nothing less than torturing him while he feels like crap. He's fighting every move and hiding from us. I don't sleep for fear he'll react badly to the meds and I'll need to rush him to the e.r.
C'mon kitty...give us 5 more years. OK?