The New Job

The new job is a 500 page novel. It is in a house, in the basement, crammed against a wall and includes three dogs of various sizes. It smells of stale cigarettes and dog doodies. Frequently, there are strong scents of wet, dirty dog too.

It is hard to write about it in too much detail because writing about it in too much detail, then being found somehow on the web by employers...well, it could be a cause for termination. Hmmm...that might be a good thing though, huh?

The people are very nice and just "good folk", they love their dogs, allow grandchildren and god children to live with them, take care of everything for their drivers and live and breath their company. They are happy, despite numerous and major health issues, which is more than I can say for myself 23 hours of the day.

I question everything, over-analyze anything and have an internal dialogue that is highly overwhelming. I envy people like them sometimes. They accept life, without effort, and make no apologies for who they are. It doesn't matter that I turn my nose up at the conditions of their world, they never would notice, nor care.

But back to my world..... the dogs!! OMG!! The. DOGS.

There is a big dog, a medium large dog and a little dog. BD growls and looks as though he is ready to attack at any minute, MLD is somewhat more gentle, though I have heard she will strike unexpectedly, and LD is the leader of the pack, who goes for ankles. Tuesday, I had more quality time with my new canine friends than anyone else in my life.

My desk is old and has two sets of drawers down both sides, with the heater situated under MY desk, it leaves little room for my legs at all. But dogs.... Dogs can find a way. And they did. All three were crammed under my desk. BD and MLD battle, I get the misses as nips to my lower legs while LD reacts to the chaos by biting at my ankles. This continued most of the morning and when lunch came, BD had his paws on my shoulders, his face in mine and his eyes pleading for my food, while his mouth was set in a growl and bite stance. MLD had his paws on my left leg as dribbles of continuous drool fell on to my right leg, she saw a chance to move in and licked my salad bowl, as LD was still using my ankles as a squeaky toy. Every time she nipped, I squeaked a little.

Three to four food bites in and a zillion near dog bites in, I gave up on lunch and the thought of doggie drool on my leg and bowl made it easy. By the time I left, I was so hungry I could have eaten BD. I may have even enjoyed it. At least the cooking part.

The paper trail there is never ending and I find myself getting frustrated at watching people take a simple thing and make it so complex, but they are older and set in their ways. I do not see it changing much. I mean, saving three papers of worthless information per load in four different places within the same house, faxing it to at least two other offices and saving it to two different created files in microsoft office is a security net they may never be able to let go of and who am I to come in and tell them that there 40 year old business is highly inefficient. Plus, if I did all that, they may see all that extra time they waste doing stupid shit and realize that they do not need me at all. HMMM, again, that may be a good thing though, huh?

The day is long. Though it moves fast, I still leave before the sun rises and am driving home after it sets. Being gone ten plus hours a day has a few advantages. For instance, my mom comes by two days a week to watch Brooke and she has somehow, in her years of practice, managed to have every closet neat and tidy, while finding time to also do all my laundry, have it smell better, be folded all nice in a way that no fold lines ever exist and each room is in perfect order and all clean and junk.

I remember when I used to think I was becoming such a clean and organized person. It took me 12 hours a day. She is here for four. I'm starting to believe she places her finger on the side of her nose and wiggles it, cause damn, no way all that can be completed in four hours!! She haunts me. I start thinking about the real possibility that I truly have ADD again.

I do miss the kids, but they seem to be handling it quite well. Brooke is loving her 14 hours a week with mamaw and her 10 with Aunt Rosey. Fortunately, Travis picks her up after school and her "daycare" hours are very limited. I already sort of knew it would be hardest on me. I was right.

Now as part of my daily routine, I wake up, decide I will NOT go back to that workplace. As I get in the car and drive the 23.8 miles (I have an addiction to mapquest), I list all the reasons that this is so not worth it and I will surely die from secondhand smoke, combined with my firsthand smoke, or allergies, or dog attack injuries or third degree burns to my legs or food poisoning from the icky spoon I stir my coffee with that lays on the even ickier spoon holder that never gets cleaned.....and yet I go, like a real trooper, risking life and limb, as I sneeze and cough from my dog and mold allergies all day, all the while talking with the drivers, playing "everything is just great" and carrying on.

I'm still thinking about quitting Monday though............................if not then, definitely like, maybe, Tuesday. At least by summer, maybe not this one...but SOON!!