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Friday, February 17th, 2006 09:23 am
a week in the life of
So two really fantastic people sent me LJ chocolates, which is the coolest thing *ever*. Thank you. I didn't see them and then I did and it was--seriously a surprise. A lovely, welcome, thank you so much you have no idea how much I needed that surprise.
Also, when did LJ get an autodraft save function? *blinks at message* Right, carrying on.
Okay, so i've been kinda-sorta avoiding my friendslist, in that way where I started looking again right before bed last night since Monday. No, no deep trauma, unless you count filling out pre-requisition forms and finally, really understanding the horror that is government bureaucracy when all you want is a new chair.
Here is the short version of my Tuesday.
1.) Chick says, I want a new chair!
2.) Emails super. He says yes.
3.) Super emails me. Make it happen, jenn.
4.) I say, you are kidding me.
That's just the informal stuff. For those of you who are lucky enough not to work in government, here is how the magic happens.
1.) I fill out a prerequisition form, detailing what we want (chair), exacting details (blue, sliding seat, blah), where to buy it from, how much it costs, how many we want, and a good reason we should have it. I did not say, so we don't have to sit on the floor, or are you stupid, why do you think people want chairs? Because I am not an idiot. Mostly.
2.) Send it to super, who sends it back with a nod.
3.) Send it to E, who is the one with the actual power to send a prerequisition form. You see the word there, right? Pre. Requisition. All this for the pre work.
4.) Sent to Superuser, who sends out for a bid on the chair, even though we know the price and know where to get it. Gets the bid back, decides if we really need to not sit on the floor, *then* fills out the requisition form. Which still requires approval again, from somewhere, and then the actual requisition is sent.
This is the short version, for things below five thousand dollars, which only requires six to ten people to sign off on it. As you can probably guess, I asked Super if I could requisitioin a hot tub for office morale, since Amazon.com had a couple for under five thousand. He hasn't said no.
Seriously, I hate my life. My rabbit is eating my hair, Child keeps putting Junior the Freaking Bearded Dragon on my knee when I'm not looking and his tiny, tiny claws are making me leap and scream, at which time I get lectured about traumatizing the lizard, our live cricket supply keeps dying before it goes down the gullet of the aforementioned Freaking Bearded Dragon, and we upgraded him to bigger crickets and for some reason, I cannot keep that damn terrarium warm. We live in *Texas* for God's sake. But a heating lamp, a heating pad, a rock, and teh warmest part of the house? Not keeping it above ninety. Also, we were lectured on the fact that we can't use sand in the terrarium of our Freaking Bearded Dragon From Hell, or it would get sand in its gullet and die.
Bearded Dragons are native to the desert! What. The. Hell? Is it too good for its natural habitat now?
So now the Freaking Bearded Dragon has an astroturf terrarium lining (Astroturf. Lining.), I bought a leash for Reggie the Homicidal Rabbit so I could take him outside and he tried very hard to chew out my collarbone during the horror of putting it on him, and I'm surfing Amazon.com for a--a *pet playpen* so I can take The Rabbit That Does Not Love Me But Eats My Hair (I pulled an inch out of his lying mouth! I thought he was nuzzling me! Until the sounds of chewing began.) outside to play without risking him getting away or eating something he shouldn't or, I don't know, climbing a tree and leaping off to kill me when he's gained sufficient height and I want a new life right now. Now. Nownownownow oh my god when I was eight, I never ever saw myself scared to go into the den because of reptiles and wearing a sweater over my hair when I feed the rabbit and filling out prerequisition forms for ridiculous chairs so we don't sit on the floor. I mean, I saw myself doing a lot of swinging adn being allowed to eat cookies whenever I wanted, and I hate to say this, but at this point, that just isnt' as much fun as it should be.
Also, two more jobs like the one I turned down showed up this week and I pretty much put my head down on my desk and tried not to cry. I'm not this good a person. I want. I want a lot. And I can't have and I know life isn't fair, but it shouldn't be this unfair either. And somehow, being strong enough to turn it down does not equal being strong enough not to be bitter.
Okay, now that my anger has been spilled--and this is only the stuff I can talk about without gibbering in helpless rage--
Yesterday at work, a water main broke, setting off the fire alarms, pitched for breaking glass, and pretty much the best part of my night was when I got a call stating there was no work today, as the servers are sparking and trying to electrocute everyone in sight. I *revel* in this.
Took Dad to the Animal Shelter, went through the interview process, and bought Dad a dog on Sunday. It's a medium German Shepherd, very social, very sweet, understands voice commands okay, lays around and loves everyone. He and Dad bonded on sight. Luke had heartworms, so he just came off treatment, but Dad just--I can't really explain how weird it was. We went to look at him, since he was still in the vet's shed, and he and Dad looked at each other and it was Love at First Sight. I honestly didn't know that could happen, but there was this instant connection. So first vet appointment is this Saturday, where he'll get a full physical and we set up the heartworm continuing treatment plan. He can't be active for the next two months, but he should be fine after.
It did surprise me. Luke is a gorgeous dog, neutered, fantastically well-adjusted, and right, I can see why the heartworm thing would throw people a little off. But once Dad saw Luke, he never even blinked, and even I can estimate the cost this can be.
Dogs and I have a varied history. When I was four, I was attacked by the pet of a family friend and while it didn't turn me phobic--it messed up the left side of my face a little and my knee for a few months, but kids heal fast and at the time, since no one ever told me I was supposed to be freaked out about my appearance or by being attacked, it never occured to me to pick up a terror of animals from it--it did instill a sense of wariness, which is why at the shelter, it was weird to walk around with all these adult dogs and let them touch me or be petted and pick up my scent without kind of flinching. Not bad, but kind of overwhelming--I don't think in my life, I've ever been around so many adult dogs at once, and I had enough sense not to let them see me flinching from them, but. Weird.
Luke though, he's--he's impossible to not touch.
Dad's just--happy. He's needed a companion animal, since he needs to walk more due to his arthritis, and Luke's care keeps him moving and working. Dad is hard to shop for, so this was his birthday present, since his birthday is next month. It's amazing to be able to make someone that happy with something so simple. I feel I'm balancing some kind of karma here. It's weird to be able to make people happy and not tell me to go away and/or be a better person and/or say that I did something wrong. Not to mention Luke is revelling in the attention. We have to keep him under careful watch so he doesn't try to be too active, but slow walks around the neighborhood seem to be doing the trick. He's trained to go outside for any elimination processes, we have a DVD of training information, and next thing up is activating pet insurance for him and Reggie as soon as we've had them long enough and chosen a good vet for each of them permanently. I've read enough horror stories about rabbits that I want to be prepared in case something happens. I still need to take Reggie to get his well-pet exam and make plans for neutering, but he doesn't need any more shots until six to eight months, so around July-August is looking good, aside from a well-pet checkup probably early next month when I can get him into a pet carrier without another set of scratches like the ones I currently carry, and having been bitten once by tiny, yet surprisingly strong, rabbit teeth--well, in no hurry for that to happen again.
Bunny claws? Sharp.
I just need to find a calm spot again and go shopping. What are credit cards but to max out, after all?
Also, when did LJ get an autodraft save function? *blinks at message* Right, carrying on.
Okay, so i've been kinda-sorta avoiding my friendslist, in that way where I started looking again right before bed last night since Monday. No, no deep trauma, unless you count filling out pre-requisition forms and finally, really understanding the horror that is government bureaucracy when all you want is a new chair.
Here is the short version of my Tuesday.
1.) Chick says, I want a new chair!
2.) Emails super. He says yes.
3.) Super emails me. Make it happen, jenn.
4.) I say, you are kidding me.
That's just the informal stuff. For those of you who are lucky enough not to work in government, here is how the magic happens.
1.) I fill out a prerequisition form, detailing what we want (chair), exacting details (blue, sliding seat, blah), where to buy it from, how much it costs, how many we want, and a good reason we should have it. I did not say, so we don't have to sit on the floor, or are you stupid, why do you think people want chairs? Because I am not an idiot. Mostly.
2.) Send it to super, who sends it back with a nod.
3.) Send it to E, who is the one with the actual power to send a prerequisition form. You see the word there, right? Pre. Requisition. All this for the pre work.
4.) Sent to Superuser, who sends out for a bid on the chair, even though we know the price and know where to get it. Gets the bid back, decides if we really need to not sit on the floor, *then* fills out the requisition form. Which still requires approval again, from somewhere, and then the actual requisition is sent.
This is the short version, for things below five thousand dollars, which only requires six to ten people to sign off on it. As you can probably guess, I asked Super if I could requisitioin a hot tub for office morale, since Amazon.com had a couple for under five thousand. He hasn't said no.
Seriously, I hate my life. My rabbit is eating my hair, Child keeps putting Junior the Freaking Bearded Dragon on my knee when I'm not looking and his tiny, tiny claws are making me leap and scream, at which time I get lectured about traumatizing the lizard, our live cricket supply keeps dying before it goes down the gullet of the aforementioned Freaking Bearded Dragon, and we upgraded him to bigger crickets and for some reason, I cannot keep that damn terrarium warm. We live in *Texas* for God's sake. But a heating lamp, a heating pad, a rock, and teh warmest part of the house? Not keeping it above ninety. Also, we were lectured on the fact that we can't use sand in the terrarium of our Freaking Bearded Dragon From Hell, or it would get sand in its gullet and die.
Bearded Dragons are native to the desert! What. The. Hell? Is it too good for its natural habitat now?
So now the Freaking Bearded Dragon has an astroturf terrarium lining (Astroturf. Lining.), I bought a leash for Reggie the Homicidal Rabbit so I could take him outside and he tried very hard to chew out my collarbone during the horror of putting it on him, and I'm surfing Amazon.com for a--a *pet playpen* so I can take The Rabbit That Does Not Love Me But Eats My Hair (I pulled an inch out of his lying mouth! I thought he was nuzzling me! Until the sounds of chewing began.) outside to play without risking him getting away or eating something he shouldn't or, I don't know, climbing a tree and leaping off to kill me when he's gained sufficient height and I want a new life right now. Now. Nownownownow oh my god when I was eight, I never ever saw myself scared to go into the den because of reptiles and wearing a sweater over my hair when I feed the rabbit and filling out prerequisition forms for ridiculous chairs so we don't sit on the floor. I mean, I saw myself doing a lot of swinging adn being allowed to eat cookies whenever I wanted, and I hate to say this, but at this point, that just isnt' as much fun as it should be.
Also, two more jobs like the one I turned down showed up this week and I pretty much put my head down on my desk and tried not to cry. I'm not this good a person. I want. I want a lot. And I can't have and I know life isn't fair, but it shouldn't be this unfair either. And somehow, being strong enough to turn it down does not equal being strong enough not to be bitter.
Okay, now that my anger has been spilled--and this is only the stuff I can talk about without gibbering in helpless rage--
Yesterday at work, a water main broke, setting off the fire alarms, pitched for breaking glass, and pretty much the best part of my night was when I got a call stating there was no work today, as the servers are sparking and trying to electrocute everyone in sight. I *revel* in this.
Took Dad to the Animal Shelter, went through the interview process, and bought Dad a dog on Sunday. It's a medium German Shepherd, very social, very sweet, understands voice commands okay, lays around and loves everyone. He and Dad bonded on sight. Luke had heartworms, so he just came off treatment, but Dad just--I can't really explain how weird it was. We went to look at him, since he was still in the vet's shed, and he and Dad looked at each other and it was Love at First Sight. I honestly didn't know that could happen, but there was this instant connection. So first vet appointment is this Saturday, where he'll get a full physical and we set up the heartworm continuing treatment plan. He can't be active for the next two months, but he should be fine after.
It did surprise me. Luke is a gorgeous dog, neutered, fantastically well-adjusted, and right, I can see why the heartworm thing would throw people a little off. But once Dad saw Luke, he never even blinked, and even I can estimate the cost this can be.
Dogs and I have a varied history. When I was four, I was attacked by the pet of a family friend and while it didn't turn me phobic--it messed up the left side of my face a little and my knee for a few months, but kids heal fast and at the time, since no one ever told me I was supposed to be freaked out about my appearance or by being attacked, it never occured to me to pick up a terror of animals from it--it did instill a sense of wariness, which is why at the shelter, it was weird to walk around with all these adult dogs and let them touch me or be petted and pick up my scent without kind of flinching. Not bad, but kind of overwhelming--I don't think in my life, I've ever been around so many adult dogs at once, and I had enough sense not to let them see me flinching from them, but. Weird.
Luke though, he's--he's impossible to not touch.
Dad's just--happy. He's needed a companion animal, since he needs to walk more due to his arthritis, and Luke's care keeps him moving and working. Dad is hard to shop for, so this was his birthday present, since his birthday is next month. It's amazing to be able to make someone that happy with something so simple. I feel I'm balancing some kind of karma here. It's weird to be able to make people happy and not tell me to go away and/or be a better person and/or say that I did something wrong. Not to mention Luke is revelling in the attention. We have to keep him under careful watch so he doesn't try to be too active, but slow walks around the neighborhood seem to be doing the trick. He's trained to go outside for any elimination processes, we have a DVD of training information, and next thing up is activating pet insurance for him and Reggie as soon as we've had them long enough and chosen a good vet for each of them permanently. I've read enough horror stories about rabbits that I want to be prepared in case something happens. I still need to take Reggie to get his well-pet exam and make plans for neutering, but he doesn't need any more shots until six to eight months, so around July-August is looking good, aside from a well-pet checkup probably early next month when I can get him into a pet carrier without another set of scratches like the ones I currently carry, and having been bitten once by tiny, yet surprisingly strong, rabbit teeth--well, in no hurry for that to happen again.
Bunny claws? Sharp.
I just need to find a calm spot again and go shopping. What are credit cards but to max out, after all?
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Re: Where fact and fiction collide
From:That--can't happen, actually. I mean, I know this intellectually.
I think. *tries not to bite nails*
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Re: Where fact and fiction collide
From:Bwahahaa! that's so cool... ummm, I mean cruel... cooly cruel? real fuckin funny?
::more giggling:: aren't friends great?
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