Middle Finger

Yeah, there's a few things about today that I want to give the middle finger to, but we'll do some good news first: I'm laying on fresh sheets right now, and I am hopeful that it will help me sleep through the night since last night I woke up at 1 something and 2 something and 3 something and so on. These sheets feel damn good, though, and I vacuumed tonight as well, as I have a rule where when fresh sheets are put on the bed, the room (at the very least) gets vacuumed. Heck yeah.

Now onto the middle finger awards: First up is my boss. Apparently my coworker has a vacation already planned and paid for that is to begin August 16...the day after I quit. My coworker checked in with my boss today to give him a heads up about her va-cay, anticipating a need for coverage in admissions since we'll both be gone, to which he told her to ask me if I'd work. Ummm, when I give notice, doesn't that mean I don't work there any more after the final date submitted on my resignation? And, when he does this kind of shit, it puts my coworker and me against each other. Naturally, she was a little snappy toward me today, as her vacation hangs in the balance, and I felt guilty all day about fucking quitting. What the heck?!

Next up is the dude in the Walmart parking lot. Grown man, you saw me trying to back out, and on foot, you continued to walk down the middle of the parking lot, not moving over at all. At this, I quickly backed out, nearly skimming the back of his legs while he passed behind me, and then pulled forward with him in front of me, STILL walking down the middle of the aisle. If he was deaf, fine, but he wasn't blind. I purposely got pretty close to him and then whipped around him as I commented out my window, "Why don't you get over?!" I looked at him in my rear view to see if he heard me, and he did. But the look in his eyes just screamed Axis II Asshole = Personality Disorder. I was so damn mad. That's the entitled crap I have to deal with at work; it shouldn't follow me to the grocery store.

Third and final is my dear husband Joe. You want yet another care package from me? Here's my middle finger, hun. Now I told y'all I got the best wife award for the last two that I sent, but to spare the negativity, I didn't write about how they were fed a big dinner before being given their care packages. Also, they were not allowed to take them on the bus ride to Florida. With that, the $100+ worth of stuff largely went to the recycled guys. But damn, Joe heard that they might be able to have care packages on the way home from Florida. I can't tell the boy no, so I got him a few things. Nothing big like my magnificent first box. Just a few things, and a little card that said "you best had passed." Yeah, he just needs to get his ass back here, and then I'll feed him whatever. But god help me, if I have to face another cashier with a box of twinkies in my cart and multiple oreos, etc, I'm going to cry. I usually try to reassure them that I'm not a binge eater. I'm certain they're super worried about it.

But about Joe coming home.... As I put my clean sheets on the bed tonight at approximately 11:30PM, the realization struck me, Oh my God, Joe is going to be home soon. That means that sheets will have to be on the bed well before 11:30 at night, dinners will need planned and cooked, and I'll have to deal with someone's alarm going off at 0430, after which I can never quite get back to sleep in the same way. In other words, my routine (or lack thereof) is going to be altered. And that freaks me out. With that, perhaps Joe gets both middle fingers. Lucky. :-)