Day Eight - Dragging...

Sadness is pulling me under.  I've been fighting it, giving it all I have for a couple of months.  Today, it's almost too much.

Stress, right?  We all have it.  We all soldier through life's ups and downs.  Sometimes, though, there just doesn't seem to be quite enough up to balance out the down.

So, I'm going to keep this short.  Misery may love company but I wouldn't wish this on my worst enemy.

Have a peaceful night.

Day Six - The stuff we carry never gets lighter...

Dirty mirrors and work clothes. 

By 2002, Kitten was four and I found myself in the midst of a re-kindling.  After two years of only telephone and email contact, Wolf and I had a face-to-face visit.  It lasted ten days, out here on the Island, and resulted in Kitten and my relocation to Ontario to create our new family.  Why Ontario?  Well, Wolf was the sole proprietor of a thriving company which wouldn't have taken well to uprooting.  

 ... yes, this does have something to do with hair and my issues therewith...

My bleach phase was on hiatus and I hadn't done anything more than remove the remaining white tips from my hair.  Ontario weather is brilliant!  I grew up in arid Alberta and, therefore, didn't know my hair was curly.  The constant Hamilton humidity meant twelve hours of air-drying time after I washed my hair.  I finally had a wash-n-go 'do!

So, the very air was my friend, and my hair was growing ridiculously fast.  My life was fresh and new.  I was ready to start playing again.  There was only one problem.  Wolf was the sole proprietor of a thriving company in Hamilton, Ontario - I was 'Dharma' to Wolf's 'Greg,' but with less self worth and more guilt and a martyr complex that beat all.  I was bound to the rules of upper-middle class society.  No visible piercings.  No funky colours.  Buy yourself a nice dress...

And then, two years had passed.  My hair was mid-back length and shapeless.  Wolf was afraid to let me cut it, so I let myself get talked in to a 'complimentary birthday haircut' by our stylist friend.  Oops.  I asked for long layers, she layered it.  I walked out with diamond head.  You know, where the fullest part of the hair is at the jaw line and it tapers both up and down from there?  Well, I stuck with that cut for about two weeks (see a pattern here?) before I grabbed the scissors.  Wolf said he'd feel better if he cut it, as he could see the back of my head.  So, he cut it.  That one didn't even last 48 hours before I fixed it.

Two years later I cut off several inches in an attempt to clear up my split ends.  I swore I'd start trimming in every couple of months, but it was already too late.  The obsession was growing without my realizing.  While I was busy being resentful, I neglected to see the strengthening correlation between my okay-ness and my hair.  And my hair got longer.  Two more years later and I had six inches removed.  It was back to an inch above my bra strap.  And my hair got longer...

I'm standing at the crossroads, nine years from my last play-with-my-hair day.  My locks are long enough that they get caught under my leg when I get into the truck.  They are badly damaged from years of sweater collars and it takes me almost an hour to get shampoo and conditioner through and then rinsed out of them.  It's like having a baby.  Everything has become difficult: sleeping, showering, cleaning, working... it's always in the way.  Even if I put it up...  It takes way too much energy, and it isn't energy I want to spend.

Are you asking how it got to this point?  Why I didn't cut it sooner, if it was bugging me so much?  Because it's long.  It's really, really long.  In a world where long hair is defined as 'below the shoulders,' it has become more than novelty.  It's a defining characteristic.  A part of me points out how pathetic that is.  I'm a great person.  I'm kind and likable.  None of those things is effected by the length of my hair.  My value or 'specialness' isn't decreased because I don't have long, unhealthy, resented hair.

Besides, it's not like it won't grow back...

Day Three - L is for the way you make me laugh...

wolf: What's wrong

me: Headache.  And I think I need some dental work.

wolf: Here, take this.

me: Shouldn't I take it with food or something?

wolf: Oh, you should be fine... I can't guarantee anything, I mean, it is an opiate.  You may hallucinate there's a gorgeous, naked man in your bedroom.

And this is one of the many reasons why I love him so very much.  Of course, he's currently pacing around in a bit of a huff because I'm blogging instead of enjoying my naked man hallucinations.  This is not one of the reasons I love him, but is more than tolerable in view of all the wonder, joy and humour he brings into my world.

Sleeping where I sit...

Extra...

Never write emails to people you don't know really well - or at all, for that matter - when you're too tired to keep a thought cohesive all the way from your brain to your fingers...

Trust me.

Day One

A thought occurred to me, just after posting my last entry.  I really enjoyed the last NaBloPoMo in which I participated.  I loved the commitment of sitting down in stillness, at least once per day, to focus on writing something - anything.  So, I decided to commit myself to a little piece of sanity, whether I'm an official part of the annual event or not.

I'm not, for the record.  The universe took me to task for overusing one particular excuse and I found my quiet, only-child household 'enlivened' by a very high energy, thirteen-year-old, oldest-brother-of-four!  I was gifted with the opportunity to learn what "chaotic" truly meant!

I have to get Kitten to dance class and just might have a moment, once we return, to add a bit more detail to this too-brief illustration.

Facing the future with... something,

Beth

Steps and Phases

Looking back on my life, I see cycles - ever repeating, morphing with each turn. If I were to define it as a shape, it would resemble a spiral. I live from experience to follow through to lesson to experience - coloured by lesson - to follow through to new lesson.

It’s human nature, I think, to feel discontented with our lives. We want more money or less weight, more time or less work. We wish we hadn’t squandered our youth… Something is missing and we’re aware, on some subconscious level, of that void. This feeling heralds the beginning of my cycle, if cycles had beginnings, and the Dissatisfied Phase is born.

When I start feeling ungratified by my life, I hide in my addictions. If I have no addictions handy or convenient, I’ll create one. This avoidance encourages more unhappiness, which spawns yet more need to hide. Eventually, all of my ‘spare time’ is eaten and I’ve nothing to show for it. Then, all time becomes spare time.

Once the Avoidance Phase is well and truly established, it’s time to move on to the Recognition Phase. I’m really unhappy, tired and hungry. I have coffee for breakfast and snack on cigarettes all morning and afternoon. I eat once… at dinner… if something is made… not by me. I miss my family. I’ve fallen behind in all of my work. Denying and avoiding is no longer an option. So, I stop denying. I don't stop avoiding yet and I don't voice my realization. If I did, I'd have to do something about it. I can be stuck here, in self loathing, for another week or so. It's my own personal, self-created and nurtured hell.

I don't know where the breaking point is but when I hit it, I snap. The silence that has masked my emotional turmoil becomes charged with all of the energy I haven't spent. I can no longer exist within the confines of my dysfunction. Here I am again and I can't stand it any more!!!

I've come to my Action Phase. I speak. Words are power. A word, once spoken, cannot be taken back. A witness cannot un-hear. "I hate this. I'm wasting everything. I dream about change but that's not gonna make the change happen!"
Wolf's reply to this is in the form of a question. "What are you going to do about it?" (It's gently asked, not loaded with anger, resentment or judgment. Seven years is a lot of time to learn how your partner works. He's gotten very good at letting me get to where I'm going in my own time. God, I love that man!)

I once read a great quote: Be the change you want to see in the world. I've always thought the world was messed up. There is next to no community anymore. Heinous behaviour is to be ignored (not my place to do anything) or glorified (pick any hacker flick). My world is messed up, too. My world originates from within my own person. If I want to change the world, I have to start right here, with me. I know this, of course. I've learned it over and over, consciously since I was twenty-four years old.

A couple of years ago, I decided that the word 'should' wasn't going to be a part of my vocabulary. It was just a long four letter word. I replaced it with 'could.'
"I could be doing the dishes.
"I could be catching up on school reporting.
"I could have a shower, because it's been a week and I'm a slime-ball."

It was liberating. It made my active times feel good because I was choosing to be active. It made my lazy, avoidance times feel good because it was my choice.

Last year, when I went back to work, I lost the choice. I mean, I knew I could choose not to work, but that would leave my family homeless and starving. Had I made that choice, Wolf would have gone back to work and might not be here, today. I had a choice, I just didn't like the possible outcomes of taking the 'easy way out.'

Somehow, I've gotten mired again (*sigh*) in choosing not to engage in my life. I still believe that I needed to take 'should' out of my lexicon. It was imperative that I take responsibility for my own actions/inaction. I do think I kind of twisted the whole thing to suit my needs at the time, and now it's time to straighten out the kinks.

This is step one in my journey to recovery.

Reconnection.

Perfectionist in the Kitchen.

I used to be a slob. If I didn't see it, I didn't have to clean it. Out of sight, out of mind. 'I need to eat? I'll wash a pot and a plate... or maybe I'll just eat out of the pot. Yeah, that's easier.'

I used to be professionally unemployed. 'Too much stress. I don't fit in the world. I'm too depressed. I don't function the same way as others."

I used to cook as little as possible. Everything I made tasted exactly the same as the only seasonings I'd use were garlic powder, onion powder, soy sauce and, maybe, salt. I had no love for food. As long as it was edible, it was fine. It would keep me from starving. I mean, is that not the purpose of food, really?


I have a new-found love for clean, clutter free spaces. Working in somewhat cramped quarters with up to two other people in the same tiny area has shown me, first hand, how important it is to put everything in its place.

Speaking of work, I am and have been for almost five months. I've only held two jobs for longer than this one. One was with a family member and the other will not be spoken of, here. Five days a week I wake up and get ready. Five days a week I go in to the store where I bide my time until the end of my shift. I arrive on time, to a place that goes against many of my ideals, and spend eight hours with some of the funniest people I have ever met in a place where I almost fit. Often I have to battle my way through the days. I battle tears and despair -- this is not the life I wanted. Sometimes, though, I look forward to my day and it flies by.

I still have no love of food. Don't get me wrong, I truly appreciate a tasty meal and I finally know a little something about what that means. Wolf is a genius in the kitchen. I have learned, over the past almost seven years what good food tastes like and I would love, on one hand, to be able to produce such meals. I just tend to get a little stressed and flustered. Then, the F*ck-Up rears her ugly head and it's all a wash. The F*ck-Up, for the record, is my sixteen year old self who is a complete basket case who "can't do anything!!"

So, make me clean and I'll take a toothbrush to corners and a razor blade to crusted on grossness. I'll scrub toilets and bathtubs and make everything shiny and spotless. Sent me out to work and I'll bring in a much needed and appreciated paycheque. I'll go against my nature and do my best to work through my shit. I'll go above and beyond anything I have accomplished so far in my life, but please, please don't make me cook!!!

If this is a new beginning, why does it all feel the same?

2008:

This photo you may remember from my last post or the link therein. It was taken December 21st. We were trying to deal with an uncommonly large snowfall. Please understand that snow in this amount is highly unusual in these parts, at least from the perspective of we younger folk. Apparently, thirty years ago it got damned cold and snowy every winter.

Last year we were shocked when snow fell in November! "We never get snow this early," and a week later there was no proof of any snowfall at all.

2009:

This picture was taken today at 4:14 pm.


What gives? I mean, it has been fun, sure, but I have to say my work-day has gotten almost unbearably long. We saw lass than 300 transactions today. I'm sure there were at least a hundred more people through the doors but those were looking in vain for shovels and salt. We can't get those items in fast enough.




To be fair, we did get a slight reprieve. And by reprieve I mean that it thawed and froze and thawed and froze but nary a flake did fall for a few days. Until today. It was cold this morning, then misty and a touch rainy by 2:15 pm. Two-thirty saw tiny flakes in the air, tiny flakes which became palm sized clusters in the time it took me to clock in for the second half of my shift.

I will post a proper time line when I'm not falling asleep. I am so going to bed right now.

Survival...

It turns out that the difference between a lousy day and a good one can be co-workers. My first and second days in paint were spent with a couple of co-workers, neither of them teacher-types. Now, in all fairness, my supervisor is up to her ears in flooring stuff as we just lost one of our two flooring staff but her method if teaching doesn't fit well with my method of learning. Her sage words of advice can be summed up thus: "Take some time to walk around the dept reading labels. That's how I learned." And then, she left for the flooring dept.

...

The other staff person, also not teacher material, is quite quiet. She speaks only if necessary and, even then, comes across as having little confidence in what she's saying. I would get tiny snippets of 'how-to' and 'where.' I'm a touch dynamic by nature and neither of these ways of learning were even close to active enough for my brain.

I spent the day making sure the prices in our computers matched up with the bin label and sticker prices. I made sure that products were lined up with their correct shelf labels. I tinted a couple of gallons of paint... I did learn, but had no idea how much. I needed to be able to ask questions. I needed to learn more, not wander aimlessly, practising what I already knew. The days were long and I felt totally useless.

On day three my salvation walked in. In this case, it took the form of a down to earth, vibrant transplant from the UK. He's just as energetic of mind as am I. He welcomes me as I follow him around, learning from his dealings with customers. He showed me where we keep the overstock!!! Well, most of it. He gave me reasons why certain products were necessary, why the steadfast priming rules don't always apply and how to decided when to overlook them, and broke down the properties of specific products so it all made sense. I need the 'why,' not just the 'use.'

In that third shift I learned more than I had the two before. We even had plenty of head space to discuss spirituality, our 'past lives' and how we've become who we are, politics... It was so very awesome.

And this all brings us to my three-hours-by-myself-in-the-paint-dept-with-only-three-and-a-half-days-worth-of-experience shift, heh.

I won't lie. I was scared out of my mind. All my usual crutches (read: staff members who continuously bail my ass out when I have no idea the answer to a customer question) were gone and I knew I was likely facing three hours without a break. I've gotten kind of used to having a breather ever two hours. In fact, I have relied on it!

Well, I did it. I was overwhelmed a time or two and I made decisions and moved forward - without help. It was painfully quiet so I had quality time with the customers who did come in. I worked it out. When I couldn't work it out, I used the phone numbers that were left for me. I was calm. I tinted five gallons and two quarts of paint, helped a couple with their stain/varnish issue, found the right product for use with polystyrene... It was amazing.

And, suddenly, I quite love my job. I mean, to the point where I've decided to work part time even if my percolating ideas come to fruition.

I always find it amusing when my whole outlook changes,pendulum-like, in less than 12 hours.

Things I saw, heard or otherwise experienced at work yesterday...

I saw my new co-worker spend half an hour making two tins of paint look like two paint chips, by eye and with the the wrong base paint (need this last part to make more sense? Let me know and I'll explain), all at the customers behest.

I was asked what my interest was in the paint dept as I couldn't be pictured to (ever) have had a paint brush in hand. When I replied, citing my year of experience painting in a new-home construction setting, I was asked "was that before or after modelling paint products."

I saw a shrink-wrapped yard-man trying to look nonchalant when I unexpectedly interrupted their fun-time.

I had a brilliant discussion on spirituality and personal growth.

I said "SILENCE! I kill you!" into a speaker phone during business hours.

I helped a few people, by.my.self!!!, and learned so much more!

So, I will concede that this is not the job from hell, therefore I will not kill myself just yet. I will update after this coming shift, wherein I will spend the last 3 hours of the day completely alone in my department, armed only with far-too-little-knowledge and a list of phone numbers that I can call "If (I) need anything at all..."

Be careful what you wish for...

I'm bloody impossible to please!

I've been in the paint dept for all of two days and I don't want to be there anymore. It might have something to do with the lack of experience in selling people stuff. It just may be related to knowing that I'm spending the last three hours of my shift, tomorrow, alone. I might be effected by my sudden lack of early days.

Oh hell. Someday I'll figure it out.

Not the most graceful transiton.

I applied at my place of employment with the hope of working in the paint department. The thing is, they needed cashiers and I needed a job. I told them I was flexible. Silly me. They had me behind a till within 48 hours of receiving my resume and that is where I remained for the next two months. Early last week, my zone manager stopped me as I was heading out for a break.

ZM: "Correct me if I'm wrong, but you have some paint experience, don't you?"

I held my smart tongue (neglecting to point out that my most recent job experience, right there on my resume which she has in her office, was as a professional painter) and simply answered in the affirmative.

ZM: "You have experience tinting paint." She stated this, her voice and demeanour both unsure.

Me: "No. I have experience prepping, sealing/priming and painting/staining most surfaces. I have experience with the clean-up of a myriad of paint/stain products."

ZM: "Are you interested in learning how to tint?"

Me: "Very interested!" I have to work on my poker face.

At that point, she walked away with nothing more than a "Hmm." Such is her way. Such is the way of the whole freakin' company!! But that's not the point of this telling.

Yesterday, as I looked at our front-end break schedule, I noticed that I had a half-hour in the paint dept, immediately before our Yard Tour. The paint training was great! The yard tour never happened. But that's more of the 'not this telling' stuff. The paint training let me know that I was beginning the transition, even if no one else deemed in necessary to tell me.

Last night, I went to sleep at about 10:30. It was a late bedtime for my scheduled 6:30 am start today but Supernatural was on. You' know how it is? I knew something was wrong before I awoke. I was dreaming about working, typing a list of numbers into the computer. I was feeling really ill and it was messing with my concentration. As the feeling passed, the dream would fade to black, only to return a bit later. Typing. Feeling sick. Mixing up the numbers. Fade out. That cycle continued until, during a semi-lucid moment, my consciousness clicked and I woke fully. Sure enough, I had to camp out in the bathroom for a while. I don't know what it was but I threw up. I never throw up! I guzzled water to aid in my body's betrayal. I took my temperature, twice, but had no fever. What the hell!? And then I went back to bed.

Today, I got up when my alarm went off and dragged my feet through my morning routine, leaving a few things out due to sheer exhaustion. My belly felt okay enough but I was really weak and shaky. I couldn't risk eating anything as I can't afford to miss a day of work. I did, however, drink a few sips of coffee - maybe a quarter mug.

Opening cash means pushing open the automatic, sliding doors, walking to the back of the store, climbing 21 steps to the staff room, swiping in, descending the same 21 steps back to the main floor, trudging back to the front doors but turning to the management office stairs. Up 21 more stairs (but these ones have a landing!) to get to the safe-room.

I was cashing in the first of two tills and my co-opener (and good friend Bou) cashed in the first of her two, when a third cashier (SM) walked in. Bou and I both asked SM why she was there, the answer to which was "to open." And then it hit me.

I left Bou and SM to their open and went to seek out the paint dept schedule. It turns out that I wasn't scheduled to begin shift until 9 am. In fact, I was there and punched in a half hour before my new team lead arrived.

Let me just tell you how much I heart my new team lead. She told it was perfectly alright if I continued my shift as I though it was scheduled. She was awesome about my lack of vigor and didn't once ask me if I had to go home. It's nice to work with another grown up. I was out of there at three, which was wonderful because I don't think I'd have made it to 5:30, and in the time I was there I tinted several gallons and one pint of paint. I learned how to change formula for tinting a 20L pail so it works in a one gallon tin (and vice versa). All in all a productive day considering the productive night before.

Let me tell you, also, that I now have 3.5 days per week in the paint dept. I have both pertinent schedules and I can no longer keep my horrible dyslexia under control... someday I'm going to type out an entry without touching the backspace key. That'll be funny... kind of.

Oh Lord, please let me sleep, tonight!

Realizations.

We're halfway through NaBloPoMo and I have a bit of a problem. I don't want to do this anymore. Not just for the sake of writing... well, crap, really. I've looked back through the entries here and compared them with my Cheers blog (where everybody knows my naaaame...) and the quality of writing is so very different.

I created this blog with the purpose of starting over. I wanted to have a place where no-one knew me and where my old emotional crap couldn't find me. As a result, I'm not really here. The words in these entries are straight forward, calm and without any style whatsoever. Trust me, the stuff I've written this month is garbage.

Now, I'm going to finish the NaBloPoMo challenge. It's who I am. I'm one of those, "If you can, do!" people. This is hardly a challenge for me, to come here everyday and write something - anything. Writing is one of my favourite things to do. Writing is easy. Writing something worth reading, however, is another thing altogether. So, I will complete the challenge in the same way and for the same reason that I complete every a game of Algerian Patience Solitaire. Because I can.


"What about at the end of this challenge? What are you going to do, then?" you may be asking... oh wait. I have no readership!! No one's asking anything! Ha. Well, that sure takes the pressure off of me. There's no one here to disappoint or say good bye to. Phew!

Well then, I think I'll take that comforting thought with me as I grab a coffee and shower. I've two days left in this work week and I plan on using them as wisely as I possibly can.


Oh yeah, and I slept like crap last night. I'm facing this day on about 4 hours of sleep. I'm actually a touch bummed that it isn't raining. In fact, it's near cloudless and if it stays this way, the store just may be busy.

Sh*t.

Doom and discomfort... or not.

My eyes first opened sometime around 5 am. I remember thinking that I went to bed late...

My eyes next opened sometime in the 7th hour. I remember being surprised that two more hours had passed.

My eyes opened finally at about 8:30. I remember a sense of foreboding, like something was very wrong. Too much time was spent sleeping. This day off is a special gift and I've wasted so much of it. Yeah, I'm pretty much over that, now. I slept. It feels good. So be it.

On a completely unrelated note... Last night while I faux-swiffered my bedroom floor, I must have jostled my bedside table because my tongue stud, which I had removed due to discomfort, rolled onto the floor, jarring Micky Mouse loose from his stainless steel bassinet.

Gotta go help with the learnin!

Freaking COLD!!!

It's 7:32 am and I've had my coffee, checked my email, researched SPD, and read my favourite blogs. I even had a bath! Here I sit, outside on the cold front step, freezing my butt off, fingers aching... and I'm just about ready for work. The truly awesome thing about all this is I still have hours left in which to complete those things that remain undone!

I don't work until 11 but last night I couldn't keep my eyes open past 10:00. By my internal clock, I should have been up this morning at 6 but for some unknown reason I began waking shortly after 4 am. The third time my eyes opened I decided it must be time to get up. I brewed coffee and began running my bath right away and now I have all this peaceful alone time. Yum!

Seeing as everyone else is still asleep, now seems like a fabulous time to play video games!!!

I'm off.

Pride and accomplishment.

On this day in mid-November, I completed my 2007 tax return! Better late then never, right?

This has been a better 'weekend.' No tests. No incidents. No work. A lot of bad, TMNT jokes!

I still haven't accomplished a weekend's worth of stuff like I wanted but I did complete the one, painfully important thing I needed. With my tax forms in an envelope just waiting to be weighed at the post office, I know that I'll have a bit of money soon. Back pay is always welcome!

I can't seem to keep my mind here and when writing is proving to be less pleasure than frustration, I take it as a sign to am-scray.

See you in the morning...



ZZZZzzzz...

Ninja fast 2...

Last night I made sure everything was set for my 'Monday'-back-to-work day. I brought my bedding and alarm clock back from the spare room, set it all back up. I even made my lunch and filled water bottles. Well, I cannot tell you how glad I am that I was so prepared. I may have made everything ready but I neglected one small but integral step in the process. I didn't switch my alarm on.

Something else I am tremendously grateful for, since creating a (heaven forbid) schedule, is that I sleep precisely eight hours a night. Although I went to sleep a bit late last night, I was only off by an hour. That gave me plenty of time to get out the door this morning... y'know, as long as you consider twenty minutes to be plenty of time.

I made it, though. I made it to work on time. I made it through my open-front-end tasks with almost 10 minutes to spare. I made it through my first day back. These are all milestones for me.

Part of my history, when I get around to typing it all up, includes a pretty black depression. Since I started working outside of the home, again, that depression (which I had very well in hand) has come calling. It doesn't stay for very long when it visits but it has been showing up more regularly, lately. And it doesn't even call first! Can you believe the audacity? Mental illness is so rude!

And now, a bath. Later, I sleep. Hopefully, in the not so distant future, I'll have less on my brain. My posts should be a little lighter under those conditions.

Shifting gears...

All my life I've run at two speeds. When I was a kid, the speeds were "full-throttle" and "park." I was either playing like a maniac or not moving (usually anaesthetized by TV). My teen years flew by all "hyper and manic" or dragged on, "morose and blue."

As an adult, these speeds continue to shift. A year ago, before I reentered the work force, my speeds were "peaceful and at my own pace/neutral" and "panic/freak out!" Apparently, even I cannot run at full-panic for very long, so something had to give. My speeds are morphing as I type. I woke this morning, my Saturday, at 6:30 am. I knew I could go back to sleep, but if i did, I'd lose useful hours. I got up and made a pot of coffee.

While doing my morning stuff, I became aware of my new speeds. Since I started work, my "panic/freak out" gear has shifted to "with-a-purpose". 'I have ___ much time; how long will it take me to get ready and how long can I sit?' I remembered how lousy I felt after my last weekend. I had two days and I did nothing!!! I didn't want another wasted break. Sitting on my bed screwing around on facebook and playing net-games for hours is not an effective use of my time.

I've used to have boundless amounts of time. As a procrastinating, stay-at-home, home-schooling mom, the only things I had to worry about were getting Kitten to her lessons and submitting my reporting semi-on-time. I could afford, in a way, to run idle; I never ran out of time and, because of that, I never really did anything. Suddenly, I find my time limited (almost) beyond hope. Now, I can't just say, "Yeah, I'd like to make a skirt/shirt/pair of leg-warmers." If I want to do something, I have two days in which to make it happen.

It seems that I have an opportunity to run in "with-a-purpose" gear more often. And, you know what's funny? I really kind of like it.

Aw, crap!

Imagine it. My alarm goes off this morning and I'm right on it. After yesterday, when I scared myself by shutting off the alarm and sleeping for another 18 minutes, I am not taking any chances. I shut it off and immediately get up to make coffee. I come back to the empty bedroom to turn on my laptop and light a smoke. Wolf vacated the room last night at around midnight. He was sick as a dog and didn't want to disturb my sleep so he relocated to the spare room. As he left, I asked him if he still wanted me to wake him in the morning. He said yes, he wanted to get up when I got up. I'm not sure if I've said before but I make a point of getting up two hours before my shift starts.

When my smoke is done and I know the coffee maker has worked its magic, I head back to the kitchen with my laptop. I want to get a jump on my morning so I can get a post out in good time. I pour a coffee, doctor it up with my cream and sugar and check the time on my computer. 5:45 wtf?!! The coffee maker says 6:45... ...wait for it... aaaaaand... [click]

F*ck.

This is the first year in a very long time that I've been employed during a Daylight Savings change-over. I was not paying attention. I'm so glad I didn't run right into the spare room and jump on the bed. Beside the fact that that would be a cruel thing to do to someone who was throwing up all night, it would have been an hour too early.

So, I have caught up with most of my outstanding facebook crap, have my post well under way, a coffee in my belly and it's only 18 minutes after the time I wanted to get up.

Nice. See, it's all about perspective. I could grouse about losing out on an hour of sleep but what good would that do? I'm up. I have an extra hour that I hadn't planned on. I used it and I'm happy about it. The "Chipper Monster" is rearing it's sunny face. It's all part of my history, which I was going to use as my NaBloPoMo topic. I guess I already forgot.

[Oh, good morning, Wolf. No, don't be worried, it's Daylight Savings... Yes, I'm sure... I did hear about it last night during the game, I just didn't think about it...] hmmmm, he loves me so much. I love him so much.

Well, I'm off. I'm tired of squinting at the screen. I will see you, good internets, by tomorrow. Have a smooth flowing, peaceful, perfect day.

New routines

I have a wonky work schedule. Throughout my week I start work anywhere between 6:30 and 11:00 in the morning. I leave between 3:00 and 7:30 pm. Just for the record, I sometimes have a close shift (11:00 - 7:30) the day before an open shift (6:30 - 3:00). Close nights, I find it incredibly difficult to settle into sleep, thereby making wake-up the next morning a challenge.

I've decided to try something new. I'm setting a more regular wake up time for myself. Today, I have a close shift. Normally, I'd get up 2 hours before my shift, giving my self time to ease into my day. Translation: I would normally have gotten up at 9 am. Last night I set my alarm for 7:30 am. I didn't end up waking to my alarm, though. I got out of bed at 7, after a bit of a tossy-turny sleep.

I feel good. And maybe, just maybe the earlier wake time will make my transition to tomorrow's open shift an easier one. Here's to hoping!

Also, today I get to walk to work. Kitten has an early swim lesson so she and Wolf will be in town when I leave for my day. Thankfully, the weather is looking pleasant. It's cold but not rainy.

On that note, it's time to wake my sleeping beauties.