If midsummer is the dog days, spring must be the puppy days, right? Summertime in this part of the world truly defines the original meaning of the dog days – languishing in the heat to the point of stagnation. This time of year, on the other hand, is busy to the point of being frantic.
Took a vacation day Thursday and was looking forward to resting. Didn’t happen. G had me busy all day. Can’t pretend to be happy about it, but it was mostly necessary. Also took the weekend off because of taking Thursday off. There was no point in driving into town for extra hours when the vacation day meant I wouldn’t be getting time-and-a-half for them. A 4-hour drive, plus 2.5-3 hours worth of driving and setup at work, not worth it for regular time when you calculate gas and other expenses, thank you very much.
The new job scenario – maybe not going to work as planned. The job itself is good. The original plan in the household – not working out as it was supposed to do. Long story and not for a public post. The job will be staying, not so sure about the spouse if he doesn’t start stepping up to the plate bigtime, and fast.
I have been the family cook and working my ass off too, which wasn’t supposed to be the case either. The result is a significant uptick in pain because of the time on my feet. I need to get a barstool of some type to be at the stove. (That’s G’s solution, rather than one of the three other adults in the house taking on the responsibility.) My cousin is working. both here at the house and for whatever odd jobs he can scrounge up in the neighborhood. G and my daughter are sitting on their collective butts and whining about a laundry lists of excuses. Getting mighty tired of their BS, which shines even brighter in light of somebody around who’s legitimately doing what he can.
Gotta go to work, but I’m going to be doing some massive rethinking in the next few days.