Learning to Chill by Quoting Bobby Singer

It's Friday night in Frog Pond Holler, late for those of us who've reached a certain age. This is a good time to look back on the past week and take a look at what's been going on.

I filed my taxes yesterday, just my federal. After finding out I owed over $1800, I decided I'd wait a day or two before tackling my state taxes.

A body needs to digest.

Also yesterday, I found out that I'd missed the boat on that work-from-home customer service job. On Tuesday, when I plugged up the landline in preparation for the training session, there was no signal. The jack I used last time is dead. I could have used my cell for the training, but in the testing of lines and phone jacks, swapping cords and jiggling plugs, I somehow managed to break the internet.

I called customer support. They had me reset the modem, restart my computer, unplug stuff behind the desk and under the bed. I was contorting my body into positions that were not intended for human beings to be in unless they happen to be masters of the Kama Sutra.

And I so am not.

We finally got the innerwebs back up and running, but I missed the training session completely. Yesterday I logged on and found that I'd already missed most of the training and that there wasn't any way I was going to catch up.

Plus, I still don't know if I can get the phone to work.

I may have freaked out, just a smidge. I really wished I hadn't paid them $65 for a background check. I went kind of nuts, scouring the internet for a similar type job, that didn't require a landline. My desk looked like a crime scene, tissues strewn everywhere, spilled coffee, ink pens that had been flung in aggravation.

I eventually got over it, though. I had to just walk away from the computer,  take a few deep breaths and remind myself of what's important.

When the crap starts hitting the fan over stuff I can do absolutely nothing about, I remember this scene from Supernatural.

This is my favorite and absolutely the most gut-wrenching episode of the series, especially if you're a mother of daughters. Or a daughter. Or HAVE A FREAKIN' SOUL. When Bobby (played by Jim Beaver, on whom I may have a bit of a crush) asks Dean, "What do we do next," it reminds me to stop freaking out, get my shit together and keep going.

Anywho, so today I focused on writing articles. I've written about applying for disability, Vinyasa yoga, dog treats and substance abuse. They take me longer than they should, but I try to get the absolute best score possible. Hopefully, that will lead to better paying opportunities. Articles will keep me afloat until my first unemployment check comes the week after next. Then I'll have a little bit of wiggle room to explore other options.

Having a spaz attack doesn't solve anything.

This weekend is the big trail thingie in town. I'll try to remember to charge my camera (It's a Samsung WB1100F in Red that I bought when I cashed in my 401K,) before I hit the hay so I can bore ya'll with pictures of freaky hiker hippies next week.

I know ya'll can't wait.

As for now, Sammy's asleep on my leopard print jammy bottoms and I still need to jump (gently) in the shower.

We'll talk again soon.

Later Taters!

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