I dunno how you manage shift change.
Miraculously, they got me out of there just before shift change. He was hurrying me out by the end of it, but it's not a lounge or a swing office (I was working, since I'd sent someone the wrong deployment file, so I had to track down the right one, and get him to understand what was going on, and to get him the right info--pretty much the klaxon that maybe I was awake enough to leave). TAKE THAT too sleepy on dilaudid (needless to say, I did not try and deal with work via email, given, you know....reasons).
But, three doses, totally precision timed--I could ask for nothing more. That's two weeks in a row, and I can only hope the meeting as a result of the pre-Christmas awfulness, and even though I don't think I should have missed muffinpan's wedding, on the inverse, if I had to miss it, I want something good to come out of that truly miserable experience.
I just started a pointless project which is just going to mess up a passably tidy apartment, but something has to be done--I went to the pharmacy yesterday, and needed to pick up a storaage solution for my health-related paperwork, and I needed a pen. A black Bic, nothing fancy. I just could not remember having seen a
ball point
pen with black ink in rhe apartment. But this Walgreens only sells them in packs of ten, and I don't want nine extra.
Unfortunately that process led to me coming to a halt in front of the pens, and that never ends well. I'm not doing fancy pens like Jilli--none of them are refillable, and it's not even like my technical pen collection of many years ago. It's just...I love pens. Buncha mega shitloads a gazillion colours. Like, why do I need an orange pen?
My mother handed me a bag of shit in JA and told me to srt through it or she'd throw it out. I am bargaining on her not throwing it out, because I only took a few things--including a cyclograph, which is just begging to be played with pens that I just dumped all over the floor...
Just last night I was at the bar, telling my friends that I never get those traditional headache, feel like dying hangovers anymore...And now I have one.
It was my friend's birthday so we went dancing at a place having a retro night. Man those DJs sucked at picking out 80s songs. As great as Everybody Wants to Rule the World is, it's not a good dance song.
I was standing in line for the bathroom at one point and I realized everyone else in line could have been my daughter. And not in a theoretically, if I were a teenage mom kind of way. I felt so old.
Unless you can guarantee that the water will be hot around it all the way out to the big pipes (and who can?) the tip to pour greases that harden out with a stream of hot watter is gonna get you in trouble sooner or later.
Leftover butter, rare occasion, goes in the fridge for next use. Other grease finds its way to the top of the dog's food. For grease that has no future purpose I would put in the fridge until it hardens then toss it in the trash. There may be another better way.
But, three doses, totally precision timed--I could ask for nothing more.
Very good to hear, better to hear would be a permanent solution that results in no pain.
How's the working going overall, -t?
Pretty good! It hasn't been a lot of hours, yet, which has made for a nice little ramp up. I'm not really good at it, yet, but I'm not embarrassingly incompetent, I don't think. And while being sociable isn't part of the job per se, I do interact with my co-workers and that's easier than I had feared in my most hermitty days. So, cautious optimism for the near future and I feel pretty good about the present.
I am HUNGRY and I want to go get food, but my husband is still asleep. WAKE UP, DAMN YOU.
Not only do I know better than to pour grease down the drain, I have vivid recollection of reading about the solid walls of fat blocking the Paris sewer system because French people are always pouring their grease down the drain.
It took half a bottle of Drain Gel Max and it is not cleared. The second half of the bottle has been administered and I'm heating up another kettle of water to pour down it's greasy gullet.
Dag, this whole morning has been unreasonably cluster fucky. At one point every member of family was whining about their various physical complaints as if in some disharmonious chorus of whinge. And doing it while standing around in the kitchen not helping me bail out the sink while I stood there with a hot kettle of water and little cartoon aggravation lines wafting off my head.
Sorry, Hec.
Leftover butter, rare occasion, goes in the fridge for next use. Other grease finds its way to the top of the dog's food. For grease that has no future purpose I would put in the fridge until it hardens then toss it in the trash. There may be another better way.
We forgot to put the 6 tbsp of melted butter in the german pancake/dutch babies on Xmas morning. I am shamed to report that it wasn't until midway through the second one that someone thought to use it as a dipping sauce.
[That said, they came out fine with the butter omitted, just a little heavy and less rich, so I think from now on we can do half butter without missing it. So a win in the end.]
Don't pour that extra half cup of melted butter left over from that recipe down the sink.
Apparently your area doesn't have the relentless anti-FOG (Fats, Oil and Grease) campaign we have here.
