OK, I have like an HOUR to write this and I have GOT to get to bed. I have not been getting enough sleep at all this week. It is completely my fault. I’m getting home late, then I’m staying up all hours doing things that are a lot of FUN, but also taking away from SLEEPING. So I’m running on a sleep deficit. It’s not pretty. I’m kind of sleepwalking at the moment. Andreas was all, “Amy. AMY. You are going to crash. YOU ARE GOING TO CRASH HARD.” And I totally pooh-poohed him but you should always listen to your Science Fellow when he tells you things. You always should. He knows of what he speaks. I was ok for the first few hours today but after that I started yawning like a weird old lady on the bus. What, weird old ladies on buses might yawn, you don’t know. Don’t you mock my similes.
So we haven’t done a checking-in-on-the-state-of-Amy post lately. Maybe you want one of those, I don’t know. Don’t care, you’re getting one anyway. Let’s talk about some STUFF, yo.
So TODAY (your yesterday) was my last full-time weekday at my part-time job. I want to say a gigantic thank you to that job for saving my life. (Actual Dad-quote: “You owe those people a lot. If it wasn’t for them, you’d be working in a whorehouse right now.” “I WOULD?” I said. “I don’t know that there are still whorehouses. At least not here.” “You live in Albany, Amy,” he said. “You have SO MANY WHOREHOUSES there. Don’t even tell me you don’t.” Dad thinks I live in the Red Light District, apparently.)
No, seriously. Not only did that job provide me with so many hours for the past four months, it saved my self-esteem and my sanity. I was able to pay my bills and I got out of the house and felt like a productive member of society and got to work with some of the greatest people in the world who made me laugh every day. THANK YOU JOB. I know people complain a lot about things, and it has made me tired, but I have very few complaints, overall. That job saved my ass. Saved it. From prostitution, apparently.
I said some sad goodbyes to my weekday coworkers today, because I will not be seeing them on Saturdays (I’ll still be working there on Saturdays, even once new job starts.) They actually seem like they’ll miss me, too. Aw! Total genuine emotions happened today! Listen, I worked with those people for four months. I WORKED WITH THE PEOPLE AT MY LAST JOB FOR SIX YEARS. And when I was leaving, they wouldn’t even make EYE contact.
BFF emailed me today and said he doesn’t know if he’s ever seen me this happy. Well, “seen” is relative as I haven’t (sob!) seen my own BFF in YEARS. Five years, I think? When did we go to NYC together, BFF, was is 2007 or 2005? But he “sees” me virtually a lot. And him saying that means a lot because he knows me really well. And he’s right. I just feel like I have this infinite future. And it took a LONG time getting here, but it’s just so exciting. It’s like driving in the desert and all you see is horizon? My whole future is infinite horizon. And it’s all mine. I’ve got this crazy optimistic hope in my chest. It’s disconcerting. I haven’t had that in…um…let’s see…ever? I like it. It can stay if it wants.
So new job starts on Monday. Friend A. that works there sent me email the other day saying I had all new office supplies and an all-new computer waiting for me on Monday. “When I started, I had ALL hand-me-down crap!” he grumped. But I don’t think he was really grumpy. Friend A. is sunshine. He doesn’t grump much.
YAY FOR NEW OFFICE SUPPLIES AND COMPUTER! I do so hope there are post-its.
Let’s see. What else. Well, I went to the doctor the other morning. It’s the doctor I go to who takes care of my glands. ALL MY GLANDS. Well, the malfunctioning ones and/or ones that were removed due to potential malignancy, anyway. So my pancreas and my nonexistent thyroid. That’s what this doctor tends to.
So he took all the blood and asked me all the questions and here is what we discovered at the doctor’s office:
- I didn’t even make it up that I lost double-digits of weight in the last four months.
- My blood pressure is low. And for a person for whom it’s usually pretty low, that was impressive.
- My blood sugar was utter perfection.
- My thyroid levels (and my calcium levels, because I have calcium issues now that I’m all broken) were perfect.
- My cholesterol is lower than it’s been in ever.
“What has HAPPENED in the last four months?” said my doctor.
“Um. I was fired, I published a book, I got two amazing new jobs, I worked like a fiend to make ends meet, and I spent a lot of time talking to the most wonderful, supportive friends in the world, I guess?” I said.
He laughed. “Well, keep that up. You’re a success story.”
I totally won doctoring.
So it looks like I will not be dying anytime soon. Well, of gland-related issues, at least. Or possibly heart attacks. Or whatever a high blood pressure leads to. Strokes, maybe?
Finally, this is a story called Dumbcat was missing and I almost died of grief.
So maintenance has been hanging at my place lately. No, not like we’re buddies or anything. First, my main heater broke. And it’s almost winter now. Well, probably it’s winter but I don’t count it as winter until there’s snow on the ground. (SIDE NOTE: Apparently by writing this I brought down the wrath of the weather gods because I woke up to all the snow today and will have to clean off my car to get to work today. So, it’s winter now. WELCOME WINTER. Blergh.) So it’s cold. So I called the maintenance people and I was all “Um. BROKEN HEATER” and then they came over and cleaned all the cat hair out. But then it was broken AGAIN. So I called them AGAIN. “Is it the cat hair again?” they said. “NO NOT THIS TIME!” I said with triumph. So they sent over a man whose answer was, after much poking around with a screwdriver, “This is broken.”
Thanks, Helpful McGurk.
So they sent over another guy, whose answer was, “move your gigantically heavy TV stand three feet away from the heater and then we’ll talk.”
So I moved it which was EXHAUSTING and made Dumbcat excited because the land behind the TV stand was UNCHARTED TERRITORY for him so he walked around back there like he was King of the Land for a while. Then they gave me a new heater. Which seems to work, whatever. I liked the old one better. It had a digital readout. This one looks like it was stolen from a 60s hotel. It’s not fancy.
So when Helpful McGurk was here, he was all, “want your breaker box replaced?” and I said, “um. I don’t know, do I?” and he said “well, this one’s kind of a fire hazard.”
Yeah, I guess I want a new breaker box, then? Because of the fire hazard and all.
So if they were putting in a new breaker box, apparently they had to put in a new heater in my bedroom. I don’t know how the two correlate since they’re rooms apart but whatever.
So that meant I had to move ALL THE THINGS IN MY BEDROOM AWAY FROM THE HEATER. I feel like this is all a trick to make me move furniture.
Today when I got home, they’d punched holes in many walls (one of which is covered in plastic and has duct tape around it; so, pretty, then), left my front door open, all my lights on, taken all the things out of all the closets, gotten sheetrock crap all over my carpet, left a flashlight on the table (Dad was all, “Are you sure that’s not your flashlight?” and I looked at it and told him, “Nope, definitely not mine” and he said, “How do you know?” and I said, “Because when I turned it on, it worked; none of my flashlights have batteries in them” and he made a noise that I have learned to interpret as “HOW ARE YOU MY DAUGHTER”), made a huge crack in the wall, and left a note saying “will be back on Monday to finish the job.” So I came home to what looked like a Law and Order crime scene, then.
You read all of that paragraph, right?
THEY LEFT THE FRONT DOOR OPEN.
So not only was it freezing in here…Dumbcat. Where was Dumbcat?
Missing is where Dumbcat was.
I frantically looked for Dumbcat, who started out his life as Straycat and therefore makes a break for open doors/windows whenever he gets a chance.
Nope. No Dumbcat.
No Dumbcat under couches or beds or chairs or tables or in pots-and-pans cupboards. NO DUMBCAT.
I called Dad and he was all, “Well, he had a good run, that old cat.”
“Don’t write him OFF, Dad. We don’t know that he’s GONE. He’s just…not making himself visible right now. MEN WERE IN THE HOUSE. He could be hiding ANYWHERE.”
Then after I’d called “DUMBCAT!” sadly for the billionth time he just appeared like a wraith with sleepy blinky eyes and fur all sticking up like cowlicks and I said “DUMBCAT! My sweet boy where have you BEEN?”
He was not telling.
So I cuddled him for like HOURS. What would I do if Dumbcat went missing? I would be LOST AND BEREFT. Also I would hunt down the maintenance man and kill him for leaving the door open, and possibly beat him with his own screwdriver. (NOT A EUPHEMISM.)
Now he is asleep on the bookcase with a cat-smile on his furry little face because he has a secret which is WHERE HE WAS ALL DAY WHEN THOSE LOUD MEN WERE IN HIS HOUSE.
Aw, my furry little guy. Don’t ever run out the door.
OK. I’m already over-time and there aren’t even pictures in here yet. Happy Saturday, darlings. Have a wonderful day. You make me smile. Thanks for that.