Previous Life

   I mentioned in another post that I thought I had talked about what I used to do. Evidently, I never posted this... it's long, so if you give me the TL;DR, I'll understand. 

   And then I'll come to your house and cut you, you ungrateful harlot. 

   Why yes, Elegance is my middle name. Why do you ask?

 If you check the FAQ, you'll see that I don't divulge information on where I was previously employed. It's not that I don't want to write a tell-all about the shenanigans that go on behind the scenes at a place like that, but I have a lot of respect for the directors and the facility itself. I can't bring myself to completely throw the good people under the bus along with the handful of asshats responsible for my, shall we say, 'abrupt departure'.

   However, I can tell you some of what it was that I did.

   My title was 'Department Manager'. I handled hiring, firing and discipline of the staff, scheduling, finance, purchasing, contracts, creating new business, communication and coordination with other departments, creating programming, web design, budgeting and general upkeep and repair of a building that was - almost literally - falling down.

   That's just what was in my job description. I did a lot more than that on a day-to-day basis. Most of the time, I was the first person in every morning, and one of the last to leave. I had a serious need to be on top of things. Mainly because I loved the place so much. I don't say that lightly. I love very few things. I love OldMan and LovelyGirl, the rest of the family, the dog, and that job. I wanted it to be successful in every possible aspect. Any time anything went awry, I felt like it reflected poorly on me personally. In my heart and head, I know that wasn't a reasonable response, but it's the way I operate. If I'm responsible for something, if my name is attached somewhere, I want it to be good. Great, even. I never want someone to tie me to something less than awesome. If I'm involved, I need it to be amazing.

I get it from my dad.

Blegh, but so cute!

I feel like garbage today. I woke up and could not breathe and my head is so full of snot, I can barely hold it up.

HELLO, AUTUMN!

I'm like this every year. So is OldMan and LovelyGirl. We have terrible allergies and when seasons are a-changin', we are a-sneezin'.

So, since I don't feel like blathering today, I'm offering up another rescue picture:

Behold the cute.

This is Noodle. Noodle is a parrotlet. This is an actual species of parrot that occurs in the wild and is so cute, your head will explode.

I've been replaced

Periodically, it occurs to me that I actually MISS going to work every day. I've said it before, but it bears repeating - I've worked every day of my life since I was a kid. Not having a formal job is disorienting. It's been three months and I still haven't discovered the secret to having a life.

Is that what this is? Having a life? That seems severe. This is more like 'having a different life'. I mean, I had a life when I worked. It was just wildly opposed to the one I'm currently living, right? (Yes, readers, you were just subject to a little stream-of-consciousness conversation there. Sorry about that.)

I'm sitting here with the dog, having my coffee and thinking about the things I need to get done today. Actually, it's all very similar to what I used to do. However, I did that with a full staff and in my office, not with a chihuahua in my sweats.

I'm in my sweats, not the dog.

Hmm...

I really need to stop and think about what I'm doing. Every day, it seems I'm overwhelmed with the things that need to be done and the things I want to do and the things that actually occur.

I don't know how I managed a house, worked full time and still had a brain. Maybe I didn't.

There's a thought that's going to fester in the wee hours of the morning.

I'm an organized soul, I really am. You wouldn't know it by the state of my pantry (I accidentally typed that as 'panty'. Freudian slip, perchance?) or my cabinets, but I am. I know where things are, I know what things need to be done, I can tell you when each of our bills is due and when I paid the last one. I can't imagine that being unorganized is the issue.

I'm also not really worried about the work. I like to work hard. If I'm at home doing it instead of in my office with a river view, so what? Work is work. It wouldn't matter if I had one thing to do or the one thousand that I do have. That's not the problem, either, I don't think.

So what the fuck is bothering me?

I have no clue.

Maybe I just need an outlet other than cooking, cleaning, building, repairing, more cleaning and more cooking.

I think maybe I'll try being crafty like the other moms.

That should be good, right?

Any mental health professionals or psychology 101 students want to try their hand at a diagnosis?
Holla.

FAIL!

Ugh.

I am trying so hard to do this stay-at-home thing right, and yesterday was just not the day to reflect upon success.

AM - working on cabinet door refinishing. I painted the primer the day before, so I was ready to paint the final color on them.
AND
SPILLED
PAINT
IN
THE
GARAGE!!

Who are the people ...

in your neighborhood?

During the day, I have found that most of the women on our street are also at home.

Next door, the retiree. I think her husband still goes to work every day. At least, he gets up and leaves every day. He may go to the bar for all I know.

Across the street, Super Mom. Three little ones and one in grade school. She's one of those moms that has everything under control AND cupcakes for the class party. She's tiny and blonde with a giant SUV and a cellphone attached to her face. Periodically, they have LovelyGirl over to sit for them while they go out for the evening. I want to hate her, but, honestly, she's the sweetest thing. The day we moved in, she waited until the crowd had cleared out and then came over with beer and cookies. How can you dislike this woman?? Seriously.

On the corner, the hermit lady. She's middle-aged, and the only time anyone sees her is when she walks to mailbox each day. I've never seen anyone mow their yard or rake leaves or anything, but it's always done. I don't get it.

Suddenly, a wild chocolate pie craving appears!!
XO uses a fork.
It's super effective!

There are a couple of women who do leave the house each day. I've no idea what they do, but one of them is dressed to the nines and wears heels that make MY ankles hurt. I like to imagine she's a present day Peggy Olson. if you don't understand that one, www.google.com.


So, do I make an effort to get to know these women? Do I just hide in my house like I've been doing, talking to you good folks? And if I DO decide to socialize with the housefraus on the block, how would I go about that? Offer coffee? Gin? Cake?

Fuck no. More of that pie. That's the good stuff. I'd have new best friends in minutes.

Things you don't want to do

For a moment, pretend you're at home. Your spouse / significant other / cat has given you permission to run amok and tackle any project you desire.

What do you do first?

Tackle that re-grouting in the bathroom?

Scrape, sand and refinish the hardwoods by hand? With no gloves?

Build a skyscraper from the ground up with lawn clippings?

Allow me to tell you, any of those are preferable to refinishing your kitchen cabinets.

YOU DO NOT WANT TO REFINISH YOUR CABINETS!

Now, don't tell me 'Oh, no, I really DO want to refinish them'.

I assure you, you do not.  What you want is to have your cabinets refinished, right? You're not really WANTING to do that. You want it done.

HUGE DIFFERENCE!

The Big Time-Consumer

On top of working full-time (when I did), managing the house and family and you know, stupid things like 'having a life', I somehow started an animal rescue.

Stop.

Right.

There.

Do not for one bloody second imagine cute and cuddly and sweet and four-legged.

They're not. I assure you.

At least, not most of them.

It started with a tortoise. That's all. Just one. A lady I worked with asked if I had a dog. At the time, I didn't, so she asked if I might be interested in providing a home for an elderly tort.

Sure.

Why the hell not? 

How hard could it be?

Guilt

I've been off work for over two months. This is the longest I haven't worked since I was thirteen. I was only off work for six weeks when LovelyGirl was born.

I cannot begin to explain the guilt I have over this. Old Man keeps telling me that it's been good having me here taking care of the house and errands and things that we usually had to spend our entire weekends doing, but it's making me a little crazy.

I spent most of my childhood being accused of being lazy, and I think it's affected my grown-up life a great deal. I've always worked hard - even when I was a kid - and been terrified of missing something or not getting something done. That was part of the reason I left my job. I was repeatedly accused of not doing something that a. had nothing to do with me (quite clearly someone else's responsibility) but b. was evidently something I was supposed to be doing. I simply couldn't keep trying to figure out whose job descriptions were changing resulting in a change on mine. And it's not like it was ever brought to my attention. If someone had said "Hey, Bitch- this is your job now," I'd have been all over it, gotten it done and there would have been zero issues.

Unfortunately, that wasn't the case.

At any rate, life is good, but still... I have this guilt. I'm hoping it fades as I continue in this new part of my life. I want to enjoy the time I have to do the things I want / need to do without worrying about it.

I just don't think I'm cut out for 'retirement'.

Pretty much sums up life in this house

The Damn Cabinets

I've decided to redo the kitchen cabinets.

Mostly because I can only clean the baseboards so many times, and really, I can't sit around and watch television all day, so I have to find something to occupy my time in a real way. (*I am aware that I could very readily do those things, but I have a major guilt complex about not working. You know this.)

Our house was built in the seventies, which is fine. I don't mind it at all. It has a great layout and some character. However, it also has some really ugly-ass cabinetry in the kitchen. For some ungodly reason, they put a raised decorative molding on the front of the cabinet doors. These damn things have to be wiped down daily and given a good solid cleaning at least once a week. They collect every scrap of dust and debris that comes through my kitchen. I know I said I don't cook, but I do. AND I LIKE IT! I like to bitch about it, too. That's what you'll hear most of the time, I'm sure. However, I'm messy as hell when I'm in there! I can't make a cup of coffee without spilling the coffee, sugar and / or creamer. It's just a way of life here. Old Man and Lovely Girl are the same way. We're just prone to mess.

Mobile bitch

Now I can blather from anywhere.

Bored

I'm not sure what I'm supposed to be doing now.

I look around at these other stay-at-home types and they all talk about the joys of being with their children and maintaining a Christian, man-serving, almost subservient life.

THIS IS NOT ME.

I'm not Christian, I'm sure as hell not subservient, and my child is a mouthy sixteen year old who isn't usually here.

I'm going to go play with the dog.

Reluctant

I wasn't supposed to be here.

I had a job. A real job. A job I loved and that I was exceptionally good at.

Then, one day, my boss lost her fucking mind.

I did the thing that everyone daydreams about doing.

I walked into her office, tried to be civil, got yelled at and accused of ridiculous chicanery.
*(that's not what people dream about. Or is it? I don't know you people.)

I rage quit.

Yeah.

Told her I'd had enough and
walked.
the.
fuck.
out.

Now I'm here.