Snoozin'

I have a few minutes to blog before we get ready for bed, which doesn't always happen anymore. We're all on the couch, except that both pups and Joe are already asleep. Joe has an old back injury that started flaring up yesterday, and as I was rubbing it, he passed out. Dogs followed suit. NOW NO ONE WAKE THE BABY, SO MAMA CAN BLOG!!

Man, for what's only been a three day week at this point, I'm exhausted. Today I put in a full 8 at work, which if you all will remember, I'm hourly and weak and do not like full 8 hour days. But I was doing some good investigative work on a patient's history, so I stayed and documented...for days. Anyway. I have tomorrow off but I may go in anyway. Short day. And Joe works so what's the point of staying home. Sadly, he leaves Saturday for a week long TDY. I don't mind him being gone during the week, except he's leaving on a damn weekend I have off and returns in time for me to go back to work. CURSE YOU, POOP DOG. Some good news is that Joe's schedule has been revised and his extensive training got pushed back to the end of February. How that happened is worth mentioning. Joe was going to take in a calendar to show one of his higher ups how much our schedules conflict and see about getting some additional time off before training. I then decided to write a letter and then I decided to not write a letter and then I decided to just write the damn thing and if Joe wanted to send it up his COC, then it was his call. I did my best to be respectful in my explanation of the situation, and Joe thought it was worth turning in since his own efforts at relaying the information to a fruitful end had failed. The day he took it in I was pretty nervous and read the letter over and over in my head. At work that morning - 11:24AM to be exact - I ended up getting a new voicemail, and as I frantically tried to delete messages in front of it, I accidentally deleted it just after hearing, "Hi Katie, this is the (fill in high ranking NCO)." AND THAT WAS IT. I HAD NO IDEA WHAT WAS SAID NEXT. I figured Joe was in deep shit, and I was being tactfully informed to shut my mouth. Not wanting to call Joe at work if he was in trouble and unable to reach him by his cell since he is not allowed to take it in his building, I settled for leaving him a voicemail. And then I continued to shake at work and avoid seeing any patients for a few minutes until I could determine that I could indeed hold down my multigrain cheerios. Finally, Joe called me back and said everything was fine - he had a meeting with a couple of the higher ups and they determined that I was right. Something was said that it was the best way to go about it and I'm not a wife who bitches about anything and something about I'm outstanding. Soooo, they gave us some extra weeks together and said we could have a four day weekend as well. I tell ya...I was fucking thrilled. Shortly after I learned this news, a patient walked up to the window of the office that myself, a couple nurses, and a psychiatrist were working in and grabbed his crotch through his sweat pants as he yelled at each of us individually, "YOU CAN SUCK MY DICK." All I could think of was 'Dude, you are the least of my worries today.' I felt on top of the world and came home with energy. This has seriously restored my faith in having a voice. I mean, it's not to be abused, but I have spent 2 years feeling powerless, and yesterday, I got a little back. It's good.

In other news, a random dog walker guy stopped Joe in our driveway right after he got home today and asked if we'd been getting any e-mails from the neighborhood watch. When Joe told him no, he informed that the latest situation was that a big black dude operating out of a black suburban with rims is breaking into houses and that if he knocks on your door, don't answer, just call the police because he's going to break the door down anyway. Apparently he broke into a house on a connecting street last week. So uh, yeah, bring on next week with Joe being out of town! I figure I'll just let Dex answer the door while I hit the panic button on the alarm and simultaneously call 911 using the barrel of my .45 to punch in the numbers. Asshole criminal. We gotta get out of this city...

Now I hope everyone is watching 30 Rock. Happy almost Friday!