Sourpusses, Little Squirts and Lackanookie

I was all excited for Bossman to get back this morning. I couldn't wait for him to see all the sales I'd booked, all the quotes I'd submitted, I just knew I would get a big ol' "atta girl."

I was mistaken.

He schlagged in to the office looking like a whipped dog, then propped up back in his cave with a nasty case of sourpussedness. His mood didn't improve much as the day went on. Oh I tried.. my deep perverse need to please authority figures pushed me to force witty one liners, laugh boisterously and make a general jackass of myself.

I was acting just like Bubbles. (Aim right between the eyes please. Make it quick and painless.)

By lunch time I'd come back to my senses.

No one was in a good mood. There were snippy, catty little remarks being tossed around, just loud enough to make sure the other party might hear. Long faces, moping... they make it hard as hell for a girl to try to stay positive.

It's no damned wonder I'm so tired when I get home. It's not the job, it's the atmosphere.


~*~


The garden is still untilled. I may break down and buy a tiller instead of looking for someone with a loaner. It could come in handy for clearing away some of the junk growing on the bank behind the house and uncovering old Cherokee artifacts.

That's right. I'm becoming one of those old spinster women who dig in the yard and talk to the rocks because they've not had SEX IN SO DAMNED LONG THAT THEY'VE LOST THEIR MIND.

*cough*

Sorry about that. I'll try to calm my little ass down.


~*~


So Ma's mad at me again. This time it's because I sprayed some pet odor remover on a pee spot on the rug. On the other end of the trailer. A quarter sized squirt.... caused by this little squirt:


Apparently my spraying the spot on the carpet proved that I never considered anyone else's feelings, I was trying to choke her to death spraying stuff "all over the house" and I cared about those damned dogs more than her.

I was also reprimanded for using "smelly" lotion.

This afternoon, she met me in the kitchen as soon as I got home from work and began interrogating me about my tax refund, insisting that because I claim her, the stimulus part of it was hers. I'm not sure what part she was talking about, there was nothing very stimulating about my refund. While I may splurge for a box of hair color and a visit to Super Cuts, most of it's going to replace the rotors on the truck, pay the taxes I owe on it and getting the tags renewed.

Between her and the Asylum, I may have to take up drinking again.

~*~


Tomorrow is a new day. I get off at 3, which means I can go back to taking my long walks around the property before heading home. I measured it once, one lap is a third of a mile. I stroll along the road that circles the Asylum, looking at wild flowers, critters and imagining what it looked like back when it was a huge estate. There are even ruins of the manor house in the pasture behind the building and a family cemetery up on the hill, overlooking the creek.

I just have to watch for snakes. And wild attack turkeys.

No shit.

Ya'll have a good one. We'll talk again soon.

Later Taters!