It's looking like it's going to be a looong Tuesday!
I still feel like shit. I think it's even worse today. I have no balance. Just walking to the bathroom makes me dizzy. But, the good thing is it appears to be much better when I'm sitting down. And, since I've made sitting on my ass an art form, I should be fine - as long as I don't have to pee. And I can't hear a damned thing, still. Which is probably good. People can bitch me out all day long and I won't be any the wiser.
It's also my long day - until 4:30 due to the fact my co-worker has to leave early to help her kids with their homework. It's only 8:01 and I'm ready to get outta here for the day. So, I've only got 8 and a half hours to go. Oh, make that 7 hours and 59 minutes, but who's counting.
I miss the days last week where I didn't have to get up and go to work. Seriously, who came up with this lame ass two weeks off a year bullshit? Jesus, what do you have to do to get four weeks a year? Work until you're a hundred and twenty years old? Because, at the rate I'm going, that's about what it'll take.
Dennis is going through a rough patch. Problems at work. He's been working downtown Chicago and if that isn't bad enough his boss turned out to be a real fuckpuck. This guy is an old military guy that doesn't believe a man is a man unless he's killed the enemy. Dennis hasn't done the type of work before on the job that they put him on - neither the actual work nor killed the enemy. Because if his job is to kill the enemy, Sgt Fuckpuck (as he will now be called) would be number one on the list. And he told them that last week when they put him on this fucking job. No problem, they say. We understand. So, Saturday after work at 5:30 his boss (forever now known as Sgt Fuckpuck) tells him they will be on this job for at least another 2 and a half days. Ok, cool, that means that he should be done downtown by Wednesday afternoon, at the latest. But, fuck no. Sgt Fuckpuck reams him out in front of everybody on Monday for not having the job done. The conversation from yesterday to this morning went something like this:
Dennis: What? Didn't you say that it'll take at least 2 and a half more days to get done? Today's only Monday. It's only been a half a day since you said that! Sgt Fuckpuck: Oh, but you're not getting it done fast enough. Dennis: Ummmm, Sgt Fuckpuck, I told you last week I've never done this kind of work before Sgt Fuckpuck: Well, we need to stay late tonight to get as much done as we can. Dennis: Ok, no problem.
So, he worked until they couldn't work any more (no more light) and got home from the City at around 8:30 last night. And didn't take a break all day - no breakfast, no lunch, no nothing - which is completely against union law. So, this morning when Dennis was getting ready to go to work the phone rings at 5:10am:
Sgt Fuckpuck: There's been a change of plans. Dennis: Ok, where to now? Sgt Fuckpuck: To the union hall. I decided I don't want you on my job. You're not getting it done fast enough. We should have had it done yesterday. Dennis: Oh, ok Sgt. Fuckpuck, you totally worthless rotten piece of shit excuse for a human being. Sgt Fuckpuck: Why, thank you, you're totally right. I am a rotten piece of shit. Thanks for noticing!
Ok, I made up the last two lines of that conversation but you know what this means? He's back in the hall and waiting to be reassigned. Which, according to the hall, should be in the next day or two. And if that doesn't work out, he can always go back to work for his brother - albeit at a very reduced rate in pay.
Anyway, it's shaping up to be a very beautiful day. At least he'll be home for dinner tonight.
Sounds like you may have an inner ear issue. Throws the equilibrium way off. Hope you feel better.