Nora, I bet it's cyclical. You know how much I loved my last job, but even that one had periods where I just didn't wanna go in (and thought I hated it). It was usually when I wasn't as busy doing interesting things and every day was just boring and tedious until the next interesting project came my way. I know you're doing great work there - it's probably going to get better soon. Plus, you're bummed that your awesome report is leaving, right? That's bound to be part of it. In other words, hang in there!
'Objects In Space'
Spike's Bitches 47: Someone Dangerous Could Get In
[NAFDA] Spike-centric discussion. Lusty, lewd (only occasionally crude), risqué (and frisqué), bawdy (Oh, lawdy!), flirty ('cuz we're purty), raunchy talk inside. Caveat lector.
Took a sick day. Ibuprofen last night, and again when I woke up. Still hurt.
I happily catsit, but have no pets. Love them, but not cleaning up after them. This discussion, plus cleaning out litterbox last night, reminds me why I don't want pets.
ION- does anyone know about homesteading? As a new home owner, I'm getting all new types of mail. That was one of the pieces of potential junk mail.
Cat hurl is...not like people's. Very gross in its own way, but not like leaving human...well, anyway.
If you're planning on striking out for the prairies and planting your stake in the ground, I think that window has closed.
But catsitting can have litterbox cleaning, or if you're lucky, non-litterbox cleaning. So it's downside. It's like, I will dandle your baby, but I won't babysit your baby. I'm very delicate, you know. I could totally break.
okay, brenda made me laugh.
If you're planning on striking out for the prairies and planting your stake in the ground, I think that window has closed.
Damn it. I was almost packed.
(I do not have the spoons to wade into this.)
Hec, if smonster had wanted 'tough love,' she's perfectly capable of asking us to administer it.
Ear and lip, remember?
I believe it's not depression that Hec is unfamiliar with so much as cat vomit. It's not quite the same as if a kid pukes and you leave it. (That would be a true cry for help!) Also, not so much volume. I could get more specific, but not without leaving claims of adult femininity in tatters.
Oh, yes, the midnight joy of the little beast horking somewhere in the house, and by the time you get out of bed, the little beast has rocketed into another part of the house, and you don't know where the gift has been left. And the late-night choice: do I turn on all the lights and try to find it or go back to bed and deal with it when I'm better rested and it's dried to a more manageable consistency--and I'm less likely to do nasty things to the cat. 8 hours later, as you and the cat both stare at the odd thing that's been discovered in the middle of the living room, you can say "How did that come out of you?" and the cat can give you a puzzled look that says, "Aliens."