Volpone
Zombie Hunter
A few more age things and then the Daily Angst.
Up to a certain age, when you can't open a new jar you just think "oh well, tough lid," and wrap a rubber band around it or tap around the rim with the handle of a knife or whatever your tough lid trick is. But eventually you get to the point where you still do your trick to open the jar but you start to wonder if this is it; that you're now at the point where you're too weak to open a jar. After a certain age, the "Kindergarten Cop" "It *might* be a tumor"/"It's NOT a tumah," bit stops being funny and instead worries you.
I guess I don't have that much to angst about. Got my first deposit since renting the new place. Unfortunately the property management gets a good chunk of that check and another house had the kitchen sink go--the house where the shutoff valves were bad so, sure enough, when they replaced the sink, they had to replace the shutoff valves because they were leaking. So not as much as I would typically get without the new property, which means I can't quit my part-time job yet. And I hate it so much at this point. But I'll get back to that.
Wet stormy day today. But it is groundhog season, so ever walk involves patrolling the banks of the creek where the groundhogs make their burrows. The steep, slippery banks. And New Dog is still younger than me in relative age, so for the afternoon patrol, she did it twice in the time it usually takes to go up and down the banks once, with me shuffling along cursing and being miserable the whole way. We narrowly missed the guy with the reactive German Shepherd (he walks 2 of them, but only one hates other dogs) and even so, I was aware of his dog being upset on the far bank while my dog went from hole to hole, up and down the bank, sniffing the ground. (And when I talk about this creek, I mean a body of water that is about 10' wide and 3' deep with 15-20 tall grassy banks in a "V" shape, where the trails at the top of each bank are probably 50' apart or so.)
Got home and banged out a few items on my chore list. Got another 45 minutes before I've got to start thinking about work.
Work. I actually like the job. I like the managers. I just mostly hate the people I work with. Even the people I like bug me in various ways but there's one person I absolutely hate. Laziest, most careless person to hold a job for an extended period. Spends probably 60% of her time staring at her phone. And another 20% of her time just standing around doing nothing. But this is actually OK with me because most of the time she screws up what she's doing when she actually does something work related, so I and other people have to go behind her and fix her fuckups. So I don't actually care when she'll just periodically disappear to the break room for a half hour or more. But there's no point in tattling on her--anyone can see what she does. And they don't pay me to deal with those sorts of things, so I just grumble and put up with it, counting the days until I can stop having a job and dreading that my math is off and I can't actually stop having a job because I don't want to keep working there, but I also don't want to go out and try to find a different job at this point in my life. I am glad I didn't quit when I got the house though. I'd have been in a jam if I'd just tried to last until the new place was profitable.
Oh, and with all the rain I hear what I assume to be various rodents, doing rodent things in my house--mice or something in the crawlspace and squirrels in a little hollow behind the gutter on one side of the house. They can't get in the attic, but it is still irksome and annoying.
Up to a certain age, when you can't open a new jar you just think "oh well, tough lid," and wrap a rubber band around it or tap around the rim with the handle of a knife or whatever your tough lid trick is. But eventually you get to the point where you still do your trick to open the jar but you start to wonder if this is it; that you're now at the point where you're too weak to open a jar. After a certain age, the "Kindergarten Cop" "It *might* be a tumor"/"It's NOT a tumah," bit stops being funny and instead worries you.
I guess I don't have that much to angst about. Got my first deposit since renting the new place. Unfortunately the property management gets a good chunk of that check and another house had the kitchen sink go--the house where the shutoff valves were bad so, sure enough, when they replaced the sink, they had to replace the shutoff valves because they were leaking. So not as much as I would typically get without the new property, which means I can't quit my part-time job yet. And I hate it so much at this point. But I'll get back to that.
Wet stormy day today. But it is groundhog season, so ever walk involves patrolling the banks of the creek where the groundhogs make their burrows. The steep, slippery banks. And New Dog is still younger than me in relative age, so for the afternoon patrol, she did it twice in the time it usually takes to go up and down the banks once, with me shuffling along cursing and being miserable the whole way. We narrowly missed the guy with the reactive German Shepherd (he walks 2 of them, but only one hates other dogs) and even so, I was aware of his dog being upset on the far bank while my dog went from hole to hole, up and down the bank, sniffing the ground. (And when I talk about this creek, I mean a body of water that is about 10' wide and 3' deep with 15-20 tall grassy banks in a "V" shape, where the trails at the top of each bank are probably 50' apart or so.)
Got home and banged out a few items on my chore list. Got another 45 minutes before I've got to start thinking about work.
Work. I actually like the job. I like the managers. I just mostly hate the people I work with. Even the people I like bug me in various ways but there's one person I absolutely hate. Laziest, most careless person to hold a job for an extended period. Spends probably 60% of her time staring at her phone. And another 20% of her time just standing around doing nothing. But this is actually OK with me because most of the time she screws up what she's doing when she actually does something work related, so I and other people have to go behind her and fix her fuckups. So I don't actually care when she'll just periodically disappear to the break room for a half hour or more. But there's no point in tattling on her--anyone can see what she does. And they don't pay me to deal with those sorts of things, so I just grumble and put up with it, counting the days until I can stop having a job and dreading that my math is off and I can't actually stop having a job because I don't want to keep working there, but I also don't want to go out and try to find a different job at this point in my life. I am glad I didn't quit when I got the house though. I'd have been in a jam if I'd just tried to last until the new place was profitable.
Oh, and with all the rain I hear what I assume to be various rodents, doing rodent things in my house--mice or something in the crawlspace and squirrels in a little hollow behind the gutter on one side of the house. They can't get in the attic, but it is still irksome and annoying.
