thejunipertree (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
thejunipertree) wrote2005-10-19 01:07 am
thejunipertree) wrote2005-10-19 01:07 am
Entry tags:
(no subject)
Sick.
And irritated at the world, doped up heavily on NyQuil, and semi-depressed.
I laid about on the couch today, with my Hello Kitty comforter and my sixteen-year old marmelade cat, Baby. Baby was in the highest of heavens. Every day should be a sick day! He purred ceaselessly and gave me big eyes and wallowed in warmth. I picked clumps of orange fur from my pajama pants and wondered who slipped my cat a hit of E.
Edgar, one of the ferrets, is currently on high doses of medication. Apparently, it was not a prolapsed rectum that was bothering him. The vet thinks it's a hernia. All I know is that I have to jam multiple types of medication down his throat twice a day for the next three weeks. Despite the fruit punch flavouring, Edgar does not like this turn of events.
Additionally, another of my rats seems to have developed a tumour. Aleister, one of my little old lady rats and the mother of Major Tom, has a small lump on the lower part of her belly. Taking her to the vet will be an exercise in patience, as she is not one for being held for long amounts of time. Or any amount of time, for that matter.
Work has been work, for the most part, with episodes of hilarity injected here and there. My side of the building has been extremely quiet and dull since Angel fucked off for higher ground. The doctor keeps knocking on my door and asking how I'm holding up. Strangely enough, I'm handling things just fine. I plan, however, on beating feet the fuck out of there the first chance I get.
Which may be sooner then originally planned. I've been interviewing for a job in the city (ugh!) that, without jinxing myself, looks to be a good chance. I've had two interviews, they've called my references, and on Friday, I found out that they were doing a criminal background check on me. I would reckon that they don't do these sorts of things on applicants they're not planning on offering jobs to. I can hope, anyway.
It would be a tremendous switch from where I am now. It's not in the abortion industry, for starters. Not even in healthcare, for that matter. But, it is a very large company that offers enormously shiny benefit packages. Dress code is business casual, which appeared to be more business than casual during my tour of the premises. I would be sitting outside the human resources VP's office and next to my immediate supervisor (who seemed pretty keen, not Angel-keen, but cool nonetheless).
I've been saying that I won't accept this position unless they offer me a certain amount of money, which is considerably higher than the amount I am currently making. Sitting here just now, I've been pondering accepting the position (if offered) for slightly less, because that would almost definitely still be more than what I'm making now, if you take into consideration that I have to work fifty hours a week to make my listed salary. I don't know. I still have to think some more on that.
More NyQuil, then bed.
And irritated at the world, doped up heavily on NyQuil, and semi-depressed.
I laid about on the couch today, with my Hello Kitty comforter and my sixteen-year old marmelade cat, Baby. Baby was in the highest of heavens. Every day should be a sick day! He purred ceaselessly and gave me big eyes and wallowed in warmth. I picked clumps of orange fur from my pajama pants and wondered who slipped my cat a hit of E.
Edgar, one of the ferrets, is currently on high doses of medication. Apparently, it was not a prolapsed rectum that was bothering him. The vet thinks it's a hernia. All I know is that I have to jam multiple types of medication down his throat twice a day for the next three weeks. Despite the fruit punch flavouring, Edgar does not like this turn of events.
Additionally, another of my rats seems to have developed a tumour. Aleister, one of my little old lady rats and the mother of Major Tom, has a small lump on the lower part of her belly. Taking her to the vet will be an exercise in patience, as she is not one for being held for long amounts of time. Or any amount of time, for that matter.
Work has been work, for the most part, with episodes of hilarity injected here and there. My side of the building has been extremely quiet and dull since Angel fucked off for higher ground. The doctor keeps knocking on my door and asking how I'm holding up. Strangely enough, I'm handling things just fine. I plan, however, on beating feet the fuck out of there the first chance I get.
Which may be sooner then originally planned. I've been interviewing for a job in the city (ugh!) that, without jinxing myself, looks to be a good chance. I've had two interviews, they've called my references, and on Friday, I found out that they were doing a criminal background check on me. I would reckon that they don't do these sorts of things on applicants they're not planning on offering jobs to. I can hope, anyway.
It would be a tremendous switch from where I am now. It's not in the abortion industry, for starters. Not even in healthcare, for that matter. But, it is a very large company that offers enormously shiny benefit packages. Dress code is business casual, which appeared to be more business than casual during my tour of the premises. I would be sitting outside the human resources VP's office and next to my immediate supervisor (who seemed pretty keen, not Angel-keen, but cool nonetheless).
I've been saying that I won't accept this position unless they offer me a certain amount of money, which is considerably higher than the amount I am currently making. Sitting here just now, I've been pondering accepting the position (if offered) for slightly less, because that would almost definitely still be more than what I'm making now, if you take into consideration that I have to work fifty hours a week to make my listed salary. I don't know. I still have to think some more on that.
More NyQuil, then bed.
no subject