little_tristan: (Riptide Murray Too Early)
Everything falls apart when I go to the bathroom in the morning. Today when I came back, not only had Willow chewed up the trash, my master monitor had died. I was going to steal the arch-nemesis' monitor long enough to switch control over to the slave, but luck smiled on me. When I unhooked the master, control switched over automatically to the slave. I didn't know that would happen.

The slave monitor sucks a little bit, but it's better than being offline. Or trying to explain to the a-n why I need his monitor, but only for a minute.

Sister and I have been trying to figure out how to get together tomorrow, with her confined to her house and my boys working. She said she'd been told they weren't having dinner because they can't afford the food. Her husband's out of work again and his mother's being a non-contributing leech for the fifth straight year. (At least my soul sucking dickhead nemesis in-law pays rent.)

We don't have time to cook the meal, but I said we could bring pizza and hang out. That's the point of Thanksgiving, right? Hanging out with your family and being thankful for what you have, even if it's Figaro's instead of Butterball? She was good with that. MiL the Hutt was not.

Ensuing conversations in Yahoo chat have escalated the crazy. Now that we're coming over for an hour in the late afternoon, MiL has to climb up on the cross and produce a full Thanksgiving dinner with all the trimmings. This is not a generous act on her part. This is her slaving over a hot stove all day for people she hates so she'll have something to punish my sister with until Christmas. Which is a whole other, but cruelly similar, drama.

The timing will fail, of course, because that's what she does. Always. We'll get there at five, after Russell's worked eight hours, spent an hour getting home, and driven another hour to Sister's, and the food won't be ready. She'll say it'll be another hour or two, and we'll end up leaving before dinner so Russ can get home and go to bed because he has to work on Friday, too. Hopefully McDonald's will be open.

But whether we get to eat at all is irrelevant compared to what she'll do to Sister if we leave before dinner, since she went to all that trouble for us in the first place. I wish I'd never brought it up at all, but Sister gets so unhappy when we miss holidays. There's just no way to save her.

Everyone blames the boys for working but that can't be helped either. They have to finish welding parts for the machine or the orders won't go out and the deal will fail, just like it did before. And our shop lease expressly forbids welding so it can't be done here. The machine has to be on the production line in two weeks and it's not going to be good for much without all these fiddly bits welded together in straight lines. Who knew the electronic designing and software writing were going to be the easy parts? Okay, that's not true. There were no easy parts.

I wish we could stay home and not bother the MiL from hell at all, but I haven't seen my sister since July. I don't want to wait another month.

At least my dentist appointment got canceled so I don't have to go outside. Their portable front door ramps got stolen. I actually have to find a new dentist now. One with a building I can get into. I love these people. They have an all female staff and the receptionist always remembers me. Now I get to go to whatever schmuck happens to not have stairs.

Everyone downtown has stairs. Even the physical therapists and chiropractors. All the good buildings are Historic and immune from current ADA standards. Historically, cripples stayed home. Some traditions just never die.

Oh good. The sky has gone completely black. I need a better look at that.
little_tristan: (Cream of Darkness)
The weather's been semi-agreeable. Monday and Tuesday were just bearable, but rainy. I've been sad, and even though I know why, I'm still being a bitch and taking it out on Steve, who's just trying to live his life. Well, not taking it out on him exactly. I'm not mad at him, just suspecting him of plotting. Which he doesn't do. I can't really see him ever being legitimately accused of plotting evil against anyone. But I've been sad and he's had to bear the brunt of it, being the one who's here and all. Yesterday he made me cry and things are awkward, but it was by saying something kind so I can't explain it without revealing the inner darkness of my cobwebby brain.

But. I went to the pool Tuesday and it was good. Better than last time. Probably just needed a little time off. I was walking and standing and keeping my heels down and everything. Still, good thing there was ice cream in the house when I got home.

I just found this on my desktop. I think I started it Thursday. Wednesday was hot and also free bus day, so Steve and I went to the doctor's office so I could have blood drawn. I was hopeful going in, but when the puncture wouldn't stop bleeding that kind of told me what the result will be. Also, the bruise is huge. I enjoyed having the chance to go anywhere, but Steve is understandably bored. Yesterday we went to the post office to mail books. I don't know how he can stand it.

Cousin Heather is coming over today to play with me. I want to empty Mom's storage unit in Dallas, but Steve wants to leave as early as possible so I don't know if we can do that. Everyone leaves as early as possible. They show up as late as possible and then watch the clock, waiting for it to be time to go. I can't seem to stop crying about that this week. And me crying makes Steve squirm and watch the clock.

Note: This is in no way a complaint about Steve, who is great. It's just my feelings about always having to choose between staying home and being left out, or insisting on going somewhere and being a huge burden that ruins everyone else's fun.

So I'm at a bit of an impasse, which is a tidy little way of saying I'm in hell.

But other than that, everything's okay. I got rejected for a clinical drug trial for depression. It's probably for the best, all things considered, but I am interested in therapies that haven't been tried by other human beings. I'll probably keep looking into it, to see if I qualify for another one later. In the meantime, I'm cheering myself up with inexpensive blown glass jewelry from eBay. And Criminal Minds. Reid brings da happy, and it's something Steve and I can do together.
little_tristan: (Christina's World)
The good news is I sold some books! I gave a box to Cousin Heather to take to a craft/rummage type sale she's doing this weekend where people rent a table and sell whatever they want. But before she could get there, a friend of hers who'd read The Bedlam Boys asked if she could get him more so his book club could read it. He bought the whole box and I had to send another with the boys so she'd have some for the sale. (Their work is close to her house, so she can sneak over there and take things from their truck during the day.:) I doubt she'll sell any more, but it's still pretty cool. And if it's not raining, they want me to come speak at the club meeting. Only in good weather, though, as I won't be able to get into the house. Of course I've no idea what speakers do at these things, so I'd love advice from anyone who has experience. Or just good ideas.

I also think I've finally lost some weight, as today I was able to cross my legs for the first time in about 4 years. That was exciting.:)
Cut for depressing shit that no one wants to read )

Oh, and the boys put up a higher door between the kitchen and dining room so Willow can't even see over it, let alone jump it. The a-n still teases her over the door until she leaps for him, but she can't get to him so he can't complain. And the latch is way easier for me to work.
little_tristan: (Puppy Upside Down Willow)
But it could have been worse. Long version of the story: The other day I was out on the front porch smoking (because I don't allow it in the house, except in Mark's man-cave office). I was gone 5-10 minutes, and when I came back in, the arch-nemesis was in the kitchen/dining room doorway beating Willow with his cane. I started screaming at him, telling him for the millionth time that that kind of behavior is just making things worse (he tries to close the half door by waving his cane around in the dining room (her territory) and hooking the door to pull it shut, which she also hates) and he went off me. There was a lot of shrieking about how I'M the one making it worse (now?) by not having trained her better from the beginning, and it's all my fault that she's a vicious bitch who deserves to die.

Sadly, Steve was out on the side steps having his own cigarette and telephone break (he likes privacy when he talks to his friends, which is totally his right) so he missed the whole thing. I took Will into my room and put up the baby gate, which she's terrified of because she hates inanimate objects that move when she touches them, and stayed in there crying like a fool until Steve came and found us. I told him what happened and explained that it's so awful because "Willow is our puppy of life and hope. Everyone died last year and Willow is the only good thing that came out of that whole God-awful mess (well, and you, of course)." Which made him go all shy and adorable, and eventually got me a hug. He said he couldn't talk to the a-n about it because it's not his place, but he would be willing to talk to the boys about the effect it's having on me (near hysteria), because that's unacceptable. I asked him not to because they know what the problem is and told me to handle it. And venting to Steve did make me feel better.

The next day, I found Doc's old Gentle Leader out in the shop and put it on Willow. She now wears in all day, until the boys come home at least, so I can keep her on a leash and not keep wrecking my arm like I was doing with the collar leash. She does pretty well with it and is with either me or Steve at all times, so she's safe. I also wrote the a-n a lengthy and rather hostile letter telling him she won't be running loose so he can just back the fuck off and leave her the fuck alone.
You can read it here if you want. )

Which brings me to my elbow. This morning when the boys left, I decided to play with Will for a while before putting the halter on. I was throwing her rubber bone and she was bringing it back, having a really great time. Right up until the fourth throw, when she brought it to me and then started playing keep away. I'd reach for it and she'd lower her head or drop it altogether, then hold it up and lower it when I reached again. It was on the third reach that I suddenly lost my balance and remembered as I fell that I hadn't put my seatbelt on. It's such an automatic action, the minute I'm dressed and sitting down I buckle up, but I totally forgot today.

Luckily Willow didn't know what was happening (is she coming down here to play with me?!?), so I landed pretty squarely on her with the right side of my body. This is good because my right shoulder is already nine kinds of fucked, so I rolled off her and landed on my left side. It was loud and scary and I hit my head. I also left my phone in its pocket on my chair, and since I can't sit up at all, it may as well have been on the roof with a dead battery. This being ten (TEN!) minutes after the boys left, and Steve being in the habit of sleeping til seven or eight, I had to make a LOT of noise to wake him up. It took about half an hour of shouting and other things (the third thing he said, after "What happened?" and "Are you okay?" was "Where did the video tapes come from?" My answer? "It was all I could reach and I was pounding them on the floor.") but he very promptly rescued me. He's a small man, maybe 5'6" and definitely weighs less than me, and has a sore back, but he refused to call the fire department for help and did an astounding job of picking up my enormous ass and getting it back into my chair. I gave him a Vicodin after and he said it helped.

So it was kind of my lucky day, even though my left elbow and knee are beautifully bruised. But don't worry, Willow is fine.
little_tristan: (Catloaf mini)
In a weird kind of way. Shortly after I became obsessed with staring out the front window, as I often do in the senseless hope that Officer Sheets will come back and tell me it was all a big mistake, Steve realized that he had pressing business somewhere outside and went for a walk. He does that a couple times a day, probably to get a break from things like this. I was crying when he left and still at it when he came back a couple hours later, which must have been weird (in spite of the warnings). In fact, I ended up calling him back because it was way out of hand by then. The whole episode ended with me chewing some Xanax and curling up under the big blanket on the sofa while we ridiculed Air Force One. Between that and the odd hug, we got through it and I was feeling much better by the time the boys got home. Although altering my med times is probably why it's a quarter past three and I haven't been to sleep yet. )
little_tristan: (Steve Dallas)
I had Steve for three whole days. Well, two and a half. And what a time we had. Last night Herr didn't get home til midnight (Bruder hasn't been home since Monday), and we sat up slightly too late watching TV and smoking. He actually talked about himself, stringing together lengthy sentences to impart information about his family and childhood. It was really something. He also takes the prize for Best Tucking into Bed--Non-Husband Division.

But in Gilead, work always comes first, so he's off at the factory today. And for the near future, I guess. It's not enough that the boys are working twenty hours a day between them and mostly living out of a motel, now the company demands I also sacrifice the person whose sole purpose in the house was to make the original sacrifice workable.

It's reassuring that Steve voiced his concern over the plan several times (the more time one spends with me, the less time one thinks I should spend alone). It makes me feel (even more) sure that he's the right person for the job. But I'm sad that the new guy was outvoted by my family.
little_tristan: (Prison)
I couldn't sleep because I was pissed at Bruder for taking the nemesis' side in a dispute over dog care, which will make my life hell forever. I lay away fuming so long I had to pee again, but Herr was tired and we miscalculated a little so I ended up on the floor beside the bed. Ouch. He tried three times to pick me up, but I now outweigh him but such a large margin, all he did was hurt his back. He had to go upstairs and get Bruder so they could lift me together, which was when it became slightly more relevant that I wasn't wearing any underwear.

After the bathroom, I crunched up a Xanax so I could get to sleep. I haven't done that in years and years, not since the breakdown when I was taking them all day and all night--in fact it's the first time in years I've had two whole ones in one evening. (Sometimes I nibble a half in the afternoon if things get bad. I'm only human.) It worked, though. I was asleep in about 8 minutes. But it screwed up my internal clock so when the alarm didn't go off, I didn't wake up in bewilderment wondering why. Instead we both woke up in bewilderment 70 minutes late when Bruder finally came to see if we were dead or what.

So now I'm a cranky-ass bitch with a sore leg and a Xanax hangover, preparing to spend the day with a puppy with a sprained elbow (too many laps around the yard) and a bleeding asshole of a nemesis who's going to insist he has Bruder's permission to put her out whenever he wants. So long as he's responsible and lets her back in. The way he's responsible for turning off the stove when he uses it. Or shutting off the water in the sink when he leaves the room. Or closing the for chrissakes front door when he comes in. If he's as responsible with Willow as he is with all those other things, it'll be a sad Christmas in Gilead. (These are the thoughts that were keeping me awake, btw.)

There were bright points in the afternoon, of course. The new Kindle is everything it's supposed to be. I downloaded all the books I haven't read, and the ones I've read that I love, but left out the disappointments to save room. Not that I really need to. It has 3000 MGs of storage and my 200-odd books take up about 240. It's sort of a dream of mine to keep one alive until it's full. Or until I read the majority of the books on it. One or the other.

The display case met with everyone's approval, too, and I got to spend a fun hour or so putting the kitties away. The best part is that there's room on the top shelf for more tiny kitties (up to a dozen if they're no bigger than an inch or so), so I can keep collecting. I have the tripod, too, so the video will happen sometime when the nemesis is out of the house and the dogs are quiet. I will try to get them in it, though. Ranger's getting shinier (and her hackles are growing back!), while Willow's just plain beautiful in the way that only a young dog in perfect health can be.

Okay, the day wasn't a total loss. It's just an awful lot of fighting for a couple good things. Now I wish I could go back to bed and just try again tomorrow. Except, at some point, I would have to pee.
little_tristan: (Volcano)
But I'm feeling a little jerked around today. We scheduled Ranger's overnight stay last Friday, and then today the receptionist, the same one who did the scheduling, called to say it wouldn't work. They have surgery on Tuesdays so the schedule will be packed, and the male tech they'll need to lift her won't be there, so now we're supposed to leave her on Wednesday and pick her up Thursday. (Thursday being a really bad fucking day this week, which I told her, but whatever. That's my problem.)

The thing is, Tuesday is always surgery day, and Gerald's schedule is the same every week, so why the hell did she plan it this way in the first place? If we'd just started out with Wednesday, I could have had a good weekend, at least.

I know everyone needs time off, but I wish the good receptionist could be there every day.
little_tristan: (Riptide Mimi)
I just called Bruder at work to ask what was the extremely rusty, sad car part in the backyard. To wit: Did the muffler fall off the F-150 this morning, or are the neighbors escalating hostilities by throwing increasingly offensive types of trash over the hedge?

As you can imagine, there's really no good answer. But, yeah, the muffler fell off the truck. From the looks of all that rotted metal, I'd guess we're looking at a whole new exhaust system. Hopefully they can go back to driving the VW without too much inconvenience while we sort that out. (Today they had to take too big a load of tools and equipment to work. This is, after all, why we kept it.)

At least it dropped off before they got out the gate. I'd be so embarrassed if the neighbors saw.
little_tristan: (BtVS Spike Misery)
Yesterday was all about banking. I had to go to three banks--mine, where I set up Mom's estate account, and the two she used where I closed her accounts--but it got all complicated and I ended up making 7 stops altogether. And at one of the banks they were doing construction and had ripped up the entire sidewalk between the curb cut and the door so I couldn't get in. But (this is the best news I have) Bruder was well enough to drive, yet not quite ready to go back to work, so I had a ride. (My new wheelchair came with run down batteries so I can't go more than 10 blocks from home alone. At least not if I want to get back. They're bringing me new batteries next Friday.) Anyway, we ended up conducting business in the parking lot with the teller running back and forth with the paperwork. She was really nice about it, and gave me one of their new account promotional things as a please-don't-sue-us gift. I can't use it myself, but Cousin H will love it.:)
Quite possibly you should all stop reading now )
little_tristan: (Riptide Murray in Shock)
Only not to Canby, 30 miles away. If we go, it'll be in search of an entirely new business venture, and we'll end up in either the middle of California, or Detroit. Guess which one I'm hoping for. If you guessed staying here, you win the kwepie doll.

But, in all fairness, I'm thinking it over and making a list:

Pros (or neutrals)

♥ Our house kind of sucks, so chance for a new one!
♥ New church, where there's no vindictive ex-friend to tell the entire congregation that I had an affair with her husband.
♥ Possible new job that Herr will like, where he can work reasonable hours and make a decent living doing something he loves.
♥ Most of my friends are online, so they'll go with me
♥ California would put me closer to favorite uncle and one cousin
♥ California weather would be neat
♥ Detroit weather might kill arch-nemesis
♥ Detroit is closer to my one true [ profile] catyah, and possibly within vacationing distance of DC. (Not that we ever take vacations, but still...)
♥ At least I don't have to leave Mom.
♥ Might lead to finally cleaning out attic and basement.


♠ Probably can't sell our sucky house
♠ No vet, mechanic, pill-pushing doctor, or legal pot connection
♠ Can't travel, so I'll never see my local friends or family (dying sister, awesome cousin, oldest friend) again.
♠ Likewise parents' graves
♠ Lose custom-built library
♠ If the boys die, I'll be stuck there far away from everything I know
♠ Detroit weather might kill me
♠ Would have to drive to new location--very long trip in the van with no sightseeing stops
♠ Murphy Sloane and Roy DeSoto don't take moving well. If Ranger gets lost, she might not be able to find her way home.
♠ Bruder always gets bored partway through packing and just sends half my stuff to the dump.
♠ Can't finish settling Mom's estate from a distance--need my lawyer and accesses to Polk County Court.
♠ Lose awesome accountant.
♠ I was born here and this is where I belong.
♠ Might turn into one of those douchebags who constantly compares her home state to the new one with the new one always coming in a poor second, pissing off the locals until they all hate me. Especially in Detroit.
♠ Have to find a new company to rip me off on wheelchairs. (Assuming Herr's new job has insurance.)
little_tristan: (No Icon)
I'd always wondered about that, how they differed from regular headaches. But it started Monday morning, after I requested a police welfare check on my mom. First it was just a pain in the base of my neck, and then it traveled up to my skull, and gradually over the top to where it set up camp and began drilling for oil in my left eye socket. I wake up with it every morning now, that stiffness in my neck and the pain in my head, but every day it travels a little more. Yesterday it got around the front to my left collar bone, and today it's setting up another rig to drill in my right eye. I don't have the slightest idea what to do about it. None of my drugs are working. Yesterday I found actual pure morphine in Mom's apartment. I need to do some research first, but I expect I'll be trying that before this is over.

I wonder if the tension would go away if I cried. So far, I haven't done that for more than a minute or two at a time, because I suspect that when I really start, it could last for hours and right now I just don't have the time. Maybe I can schedule it for Sunday.

Sometimes I pause and wonder if I'm having a stroke.

I can't really remember when I last ate. Caffeine helps a little.

My cousin and her friends did a great job cleaning up at Mom's. It was only a little bit awful taking her brother over there. He actually got there first, before I'd even left home, but the manager couldn't let him, because apparently I'm in charge. The legal machine has taken over, and the law, in its infinite bizarreness, puts children ahead of siblings. But he lives far away and can't stay long, so I guess it's just as well. I don't know. Yesterday I signed the cremation order, which had to be initialed in about nine places, and at least 4 of them were to certify that there isn't anyone else with greater authority to sign it. Basically, it was 4 different ways of saying, It's all on you, kid. That was when the headache reached my clavicle. I'm so afraid of fucking up.

I did fuck up, though, because between the cleaning and the funeral home and trying to get her mail from the PO, I never had time to go to my sister's. As it was, I didn't get home until long after Herr went to bed. I was working hard and a lot of important stuff got done, but she needs me and I couldn't be there. I can't be everywhere, and that just sounds so lame. I sent Uncle Harold to visit with her while we cleaned up the worst of the mess (sort of a twofer), but it's not the same. He's not in charge, so he can't tell her what's going to happen. I'm going to try and reach Harold today and see if he'll drive me out there.

There was a message on Mom's answering machine from a woman in Colorado who was apparently a close friend. She sounded worried. I have to call her, but the idea makes my jaw hurt.

When I got home, there were flowers on the porch from the boys' bosses. They were very surprised. Even at their age, they still don't understand death protocol.

The footprint is still on her door.

At least the vomiting has stopped. For now.
little_tristan: (Denis Leary)
Actually, I've been awake for a long time. I've officially run out of positions to sleep in that don't inspire unbearable pain, so I read in bed for a while and then got up at one. It's brutally unfair. The Thing That Hurts isn't supposed to hurt when I'm already lying on it, so when it does, there's nowhere left to go. Sitting up doesn't really help, I just feel more in control and better able to cope when I'm wearing my exoskeleton.

Of course I expect to be ridiculously tired in twelve hours, but for now at least I'm getting some writing done. It might even help me finish Les Miserables on time. (No, the irony is not lost on me. It never is.) And later today, I'm calling about the new improved exoskeleton. March is almost half over and I haven't heard from them since December. But I think I might be able to sleep in that chair.
little_tristan: (Firefly Jayne on You Side)
It was Saturday, of course, so we stayed up extra late. Well, Bruder went to bed on time, but Herr flew until midnight while I watched Buffy and read Stephen King's It. So I wasn't much in the mood when I heard something in the basement. I was sitting by my favorite window, right over a heat vent, and at first it sounded like something in the ductwork, like a ball rolling. I was telling myself it was just a funny furnace sound, but it was 10:30 already, so the furnace had been off a good half hour. After a while, I went and told Herr there was something strange going on down there. He said he'd come look into it, and I went back to the vent to listen some more.

Ranger got in on it then, sniffing the front door and then the vent, pressing her big nose to the floor so hard that she left huge wet smudges all around it. And then suddenly I heard something else breathing. A sort of shuffling and snuffling, like a clumsy man with a cold. Now, for those who don't know, a few years ago I was home alone with our border collie, Doc, when a man broke into the house. It happened all slow and scary, with me listening and knowing that it was happening but not being able to do anything. He was coming in the door between me and my hiding place, and I couldn't get outside, so Doc and I had to chase him out with just her barking and me screaming and it was one of the top three worst things that's ever happened to me. Although it's also the reason we got Ranger, so good did come of it. She's the sole reason my PTSD only lasted 2 years.

Anyway, it's been years since I've had an actual flashback on that event, but I was having one last night, so I locked the door between the kitchen and the basement, got my pistol from my hiding place, and went back down to the office to see what was keeping Herr. He had gone back to flying, but there's something about me with a loaded gun that just makes him sit up and pay attention. So when I told him there was someone in the basement, he believed me. He woke up Bruder and gave him the pistol since it isn't a style he's familiar with (Bruder gave it to me) and he wasn't sure how to work the safety, and then got his sword from the bedroom. He's really good with a sword.

The boys made a lot of noise going down the stairs, and turned on all the lights. When that didn't get a reaction, and fifteen seconds went by without any shouting or shooting, I suddenly knew what they were going to find. And I was right. It was a big ol' possum, snuffling around on top of the retaining wall and banging into the ductwork. They chased it around a little and debated the relative merits of shooting/decapitating it, but in the end they just came upstairs and Bruder went back to bed. After a quick lesson on releasing the safety on my gun. The possum is still down there, so far as we know. I'm going to call animal control in the morning, and if they won't take it , I suppose the next step is naming it.

I'm thinking--Ted.
little_tristan: (Daria: Mr. D)
All weekend, Herr and Bruder have been worrying about going to work today. They were supposed to start working split shifts, with one of them running a morning crew, then an overlap from about noon to three, and the other running an afternoon/evening crew. They badly didn't want to do this for several reasons: a) it's a long commute and with both of them driving themselves, it would double our gas consumption without increasing pay; b) Bruder really shouldn't be driving in the dark, and in Oregon in February, almost everyone goes to and from work in the dark; c) they're so co-dependent (a term they actually agree with) that they only really work effectively together. Dividing them doesn't spread the productivity, it reduces it. So they've been pretty upset about the whole thing.

Turns out, though, that they should have been worried about something else. Yesterday they were given such a huge stack of work that takes two people, that only they can do, to keep both of them there all day. The crew will work two shifts, but the boys will have to be there for both. Why? Because they aren't allowed to have charge of any employees who are actually smart enough to learn to change the heads on the manufacturing machines, and they don't have any say in the production schedules, so they can't plan the best way to, you know, produce.

The ex-partner gets the orders and they go through at least three members of the office staff, none of whom actually understand or care about what they're writing down. And they don't get into trouble when they screw it up, the boys do. The numbers get transposed, letter codes get mixed up, truncated, or left off altogether, and when one of the boys catches a mistake (which is hard to do when they don't know what it's supposed to be), they get into trouble for contacting the ex-partner for clarification. They're not supposed to go directly to her, they're supposed to go to the office staff, who, when presented with two sheets of paper that are supposed to say the same thing and yet don't, aren't even capable of understanding why that's a problem. ("Oh, I wrote down 22 DPT here when she said 22 T. So?" "So, DPT and T are two radically different kinds of trays. The customer wanted DPT and we just made nine pallets of T." "So?") These are the conversations they have at least twice a month. The waste of time, soil, and paper that costs $800 a roll is tremendous.

Yesterday the boss, who is also an owner, showed up on the factory floor and lectured them about "not catching these red flags". For some reason, they're expected to know instinctively when they've been given a wrong order, and further, what it should be. But still without checking with anyone. The bosses have been ranting and harassing about stupid shit like this ever since the boys got there, and they've finally started getting angry and yelling back. It's very interesting. They probably won't quit, and I'm pretty sure they're too important to be fired, and that alone might be why the small, petty, partial-owner boss is being such a wanker. He put up money to buy in, but he doesn't seem to serve a purpose. I'm coming to think that he doesn't like people who have actual skills.
little_tristan: (Losers Cougar Silent Tears)
Probably everyone who's interested knows that the lovely and talented Anne Francis passed away last night. Until I read the news reports today, I hadn't put her name together with so many of her fine performances. For instance, I had no idea she was the confused mannequin in one of my all time favorite Twilight Zone episodes. She was a pin-up quality beauty in her youth, and a wonderful actress throughout her career. Eighty years is a good, long life, but that doesn't make it right.

Then I turned to my morning comic strips for cheering up and guess what I found? The Widow Doonesbury in a casket. No illness, no foreshadowing, no warnings of any kind. In the 20 years I've been reading Doonesbury, I've seen Andy die of AIDS, Lacey succumb to Alzheimer's, and BD lose a leg, but at least he padded the blows on all of them. Still, I guess there's never a good way to lose a grandmother. (Favorite exchange ever--Alex: "Is it okay if I call you Notorious Grammy D?" Daisy Doonesbury: "Heavens, dear, I wouldn't know. Is it disrespectful?"")

It was shortly after that that I realized I was out of Irish cream, which is basically what I use for food these days. It was 25 degrees out when I made my first trip to the liquor store at 9:30, just to find out that it was closed. (Oregon has state-run liquor stores with mandated hours, not to mention the whole population limit thing. Our town only gets one because we're small, but at least it's 5 blocks from my house.) I went back at 11 when it opened (30 degrees), and am pretty well buzzed now. That's good. Still a little cold, though. I can't put on sweaters or coats on my own, and since the arch-nemesis demands the heat be cranked up past all toleration, I can't have Herr put one on me before he leaves in the morning. So dickhead's hanging around the house in his underwear, and I'm either sweating to death inside or freezing outside. Did I say my house before? Yeah, that doesn't sound right.

Small bright point? Les Miserables is really engrossing. Can't imagine why I didn't finish it before.
little_tristan: (Penny Says Explode)
Brought to you by FaceBook:

This was the top sidebar ad on my FB page this morning. What I'm trying to figure out is who this ad is directed at. And what schools are the respondents going to apply to? Bartending Academies? The Albuquerque School of Massage (specializing in happy endings since 1987, conveniently located upstairs from the liquor store on Central)?

Oh, wait. It's for ONLINE colleges. That's way more legitimate. Fuck.
little_tristan: (Goofball in taped glasses)
I think I'm about through the staring-into-space-in-a-blank-depression phase (yay!), but now I'm having uncontrollable muscle spasms in my right thumb and forefinger, which are basically the only working digits on that hand. So still no writing, and very little typing of any kind. Sorry, [ profile] oddmonster. Maybe tomorrow.
little_tristan: (Firefly Jayne's Hat)
Two weeks into God knows what's wrong with me and it's still kicking me brutally in the head. Seriously. Headache City, population: Me. But life goes on.

Tomorrow I meet Rob, the new wheelchair guy, who's coming to start the process of getting me a new wheelchair. He might even have the gel mattress thing, which just can't come soon enough for my hip, which is actively battling my head for the big blue ribbon of pain. Luckily Herr is talented at rubbing both of them.

Thursday is furnace day. The furnace actually got here last week, but Herr discovered that it would take him weeks of research, and sheet metal fabrication, to get it installed. So it's been in the basement, not doing a damn thing, while we figure out who's going to do the job. At first, I was being extremely efficient and taking bids to get the best price, but that didn't turn out so well, either. Apparently it's furnace season here in the Great Northwest, and out of three pages in the phone book, I could only get one company to even come out and do the estimate before Thanksgiving. So I don't know if they're competent or competitively priced or anything. All I know is they're available, and it's getting cold.

It's kind of a huge job, though, so we're not expecting to actually have heat right away. They'll probably have to finish it Friday morning, and then there's no telling when we'll be able to get the inspection. Perhaps with a real contractor, we can assume it's done right and use it while we wait. I have to say, I'm looking forward to that programmable thermostat.

Today, I'm just watching King of the Hill (NetFlix has all 13 seasons available for streaming) and working on my book. When my head gets too achy for writing, it's on to 'Salem's Lot on Kindle. Halloween may be over, but I still love a scary book. The clouds and rain (and really fierce winds) make it so cozy and shivery inside. It's one power outage away from perfection.


little_tristan: (Default)

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