I guess we'll start with Friday. I'd been feeling a little crotchedy, compounded by the fact that EVERYONE either left early or took the whole dang day off from The Asylum, leaving me alone with Jabba the Engineer, whom I love to pieces but isn't worth a hill of beans when I need someone to watch the phones while I go pee or need rescuing from disgruntled former employees who show up on four-wheelers wielding shot guns and wreaking of bargain basement beer.
Not that I'm paranoid or anything.
Anyway, it was a day of ticked off customers and angry phone calls, the kind of day that makes you want to crawl under your desk, curl up in the fetal position and whistle show tunes.
I was glad to get out of here and start my weekend. I had grand plans to track down some tires for Jolene, get some housework done and piddle around in some clay. At about 2 o'clock Saturday morning, it became apparent that there would be none of that taking place as I assumed the position and proceeded with, as Ma used to put it, "hugging John and screaming for Earl." The pukefest continued until daybreak. By then, I'd given up on going back to bed, setting up camp in the living room, closer to the fore mentioned John.
I can't blame this one on Mr. G. This latest little attack was kicking me much lower in the abdomen, near where about 15 years ago I had 2 feet of intestine ripped out, the result of a grapefruit sized blockage, leaving a scar to rival anything you'll see this Halloween and my navel in a permanent state of winking.
No lie, Ma used to threaten to show my belly to my trashy big boobed cousin with the lazy eye's youngin when she misbehaved.
I know, I know, my sexiness has once again left you in a mind altering fog of awe. Try to fight it. It'll be okay.
Of course, the pukefest is always followed by two days of that other unpleasant intestinal carnival, no longer hugging John, but perching atop him repeatedly.
So yeah. That was my weekend. I slept a lot in between.. ya know.. that other stuff. And? I showed up for work this morning, because
But wait, there's more!
After I got to work this morning and fixed a cup of hot tea, because coffee just doesn't sound like a good idea right now, I get a text from The Amazon.
"Aunt Moses is going to try to get Nana to go to the hospital or the doctor because her craziness has apparently seeped out of the house."
It seems she's been calling assorted neighbors and family members yelling at them for not inviting her to imagined parties and telling everyone she's lazy.
That's my life at the moment. Updates to follow.