Supervisors by the numbers

  • I have had 10 bosses in not quite 8 years with the same company.  Well, 9 bosses, since my current boss was my boss a year ago, but I had a different boss in the year in between.
  • 4 of them don’t work for the company anymore.
  • In 2 cases, I got a new boss because they left the company.
  • My shortest period of time working for someone was about 3 months.
  • My longest period of time working for someone was nearly 2 years.
  • 5 of my 9 bosses have been women, but not the past 3.
  • All 9 are older than I am.
  • I have had 3 bosses since I started working remotely (more than 2 years ago).  4, if you count the one who’s my boss again.
  • I’ve had 1 boss I’ve never met in person (my current boss), although that will change in about 3 weeks.

This has been illuminating.  I don’t know what it tells me – maybe that we have a lot of turnover (except that more than half of them still work for the company), or maybe that the company doesn’t know what to do with me, or maybe nothing, and this is just how it goes when you work in one place for nearly 8 years.

My heart’s always yours

We’re going to Boston tonight to see the Arkells for the third time this year because they’re awesome and we love them.  I figured I’d spend the day with their albums on repeat, get all revved up for the show, but that didn’t last long.  I cannot focus when music I like (that has words) is playing.  Lots of singing was happening, not much work.  It did remind me that I like listening to music while I work, though, so I switched to classical, whiiiiiiich wasn’t really a better choice.  My favorite Enigma Variation played and I started crying and I just had to stop listening altogether.  There’s no crying at work.  Also, that’s, like, the complete opposite mood I want to be in for the show.  There’s time to fix that!  It’ll be all Arkells, all the time, on the drive up, which starts NOW.

I will be dancing like the people in this video.  In fact, I already am.

Who are the people in your neighborhood?

I met our mailman today.  Well, I waylaid him.  Once I saw that his truck was parked outside (he always parks his truck on the opposite side of the street from our house and then walks the block delivering the mail), I spent much of my afternoon peering up and down the street trying to find him so I could meet him at our door.

We keep getting other people’s mail.  I don’t mean previous tenants – I mean people whose addresses are not even on our street.  We try to return it, or in some cases, deliver it ourselves, but now I’m worried that we’re not getting all of our mail.  We have no guarantee that whoever IS getting it is making any effort to get it to us.  They might just be throwing it away!

I wasn’t going to accuse him of anything.  I just wanted to hand him the three pieces of mail we got yesterday for someone on the next block over (different street) so he could deliver it correctly, so I lurked by the windows, and I STILL almost missed him.

He is the nicest man!  Super chatty, a bit too much of a sharer, but very nice and quite happy I gave him the mail so he could redeliver it.  Turns out he was off yesterday, and he has been correcting delivery mistakes all day long.  I guess yesterday’s substitute isn’t very good at his job.  I didn’t tell him about the other times we’ve gotten the wrong mail – it didn’t seem like a good time because it turns out he was off yesterday because he was recovering from Monday’s colonoscopy, which he woke up during but was unable to alert the doctors, so he could feel it, and THEN when he woke up yesterday, the left side of his face was droopy and basically paralyzed.  Turns out he has Bell’s palsy, which he had once on the OTHER side of his face about seven years ago, and it’ll get better over the next few weeks.

His name is Ed.  He has a white brushy walrus-type mustache, and I like him.

Trees and forgery

The most perfect tree is at the end of our block.  It’s like a role model for trees.  See little seedlings?  You could grow up to be this lovely.  But if you don’t, I’ll love you anyway.  (I like trees.)

It’s a nice tree.  After yesterday’s wind and today’s rain, it might also be a naked tree.  Poor naked tree.

From Rhode Island Comic Con this weekend:

There’s a creepy kid behind me, isn’t there?

NO, I AM NOT YOUR MUMMY!

We had a really good time.  Bought a lot of geeky stuff, saw some cool celebrities (I managed not to lose it while walking past Wallace Shawn several times), chatted with some artists – it was fun.  And then I got my credit card back from the bar where I’d left it the night before because I had a tab open when the fire alarm went off and they evacuated the building and when we came back for it they had just locked the doors so we had to come back the next day.  No hassle at that point, thank goodness, but I was half-expecting an issue with proving I’m me since I haven’t gotten my real RI license yet and I’m walking (and driving) around with an 8.5″x 11″ piece of paper as my temporary driver’s license.  I keep expecting someone to look at it and be like, “Nice forgery, idiot, I’m calling the cops.”  I could never be a criminal.

I have the olds

We’ve had a really good, really fun few days, but oh my god the late nights.  I’m SO TIRED.  On Thursday, we were up past midnight because Greg and Amanda and the kids were passing through on their way to Boston.  We had a great time (and saw them again for an hour the next day before they left), but we didn’t go to bed until late and then the goddamn steam heat banged through the radiator at 3 in the morning, and we still worked on Friday.  Friday night wasn’t too late, but Saturday night we met Dan (from high school with John) and Lindsay for dinner and didn’t get to bed until nearly 3am, and then we were awake by 8am Sunday morning (I don’t know why), and then we were on our feet all day at the Rhode Island Comic Con (which was way fun), and all I want to do is go to sleep.  It’s not even 7:30 right now, but I feel like I’ve been up for days.  I see an early bedtime in my future.

Book Funk

The other day, John told me I’m in a book funk.  I objected.  I told him I am NOT in a book funk, I like the book I’m reading now.  He pointed out, accurately, that I was JUST telling him what I don’t like about that exact book.  Leaving aside that I’m capable of liking a book while not liking something about it, so that’s not really an indicator of whether I’m enjoying reading my book (maybe I’m enjoying complaining about it!), once I thought about it, I have to say he’s not wrong.  I might be in a book funk.   (Also, he wasn’t wrong about that book.  I think I’d have to say I didn’t like it overall, but I liked certain things about it.)

I just went back to my book list, and my ratio of books I don’t like to books I like is WAY higher than normal.  Over the last 12 weeks, I have not liked 10 out of 29 books.  That’s a full third of the books I’ve picked up in the last three months.  Either I’m getting worse at picking out books or I’m getting better at recognizing what I shouldn’t be spending my time on.  The second thing sounds better.  Let’s go with that.

If I could do cartwheels, I totally would right now

The sort feature came back!  I am way happier about that than I should be.  I mean, really.  It’s a sort feature on a website.  But it’s back!  And I can sort my wish list by price again!  Seriously, I’m pretty pleased.  I will take that as a positive end to what turned out to be a very long workday (what is with Fridays?), walk away from my computer, and read a book.  Hopefully one that I’ll like.  More on that tomorrow.

Neighbors are doing it right

I keep a list of things I like about houses and might consider for our forever home (like tile floors or hardwood floors, floor to ceiling windows, skylights, Olympic sized bathtubs, wraparound porches, a creek at the bottom of an expanse of lawn, plenty of trees, window seats, a library with a ladder, first floor laundry, a mudroom, etc.).  At this point, the list is full of contradictory things, and a house that had everything probably wouldn’t stay upright, but at least I have a list of things to refer to when we actually start looking.

Anyway, there’s a house a few blocks from us with pretty stone wall and steps and a vine-covered railing.  I like it.  I want it.

Added to the list.

Thanks, but no thanks

I had my free session with a personal trainer tonight, and, uh, yeah.  I won’t be doing that again.  The workout was fine, but she totally ignored my requests about what I wanted her to show me.  When we were done, she gave me the hard sell to work with her regularly, in the MOST annoying way.  Maybe this works on your other clients, lady, but I CAN meet my goals without your help, and I can certainly do it for less than $400 a month.  You don’t know me.  Don’t assume I need outside motivation just because I’m taking advantage of a free session.

I’ve been home for an hour and a half, and I’m still super irritated.  Must let go.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

Breathe in.

Oh hell, I’ll probably see her at the gym again sometime.

Breathe out.

Maybe she doesn’t come in early in the morning.  She didn’t look familiar.

Breathe in.

I really don’t want to have to keep telling her no.

Breathe out.

The pushy personal trainer can shove it.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

All better.

Hangin’ stuff

It’s time to hang pictures.  Some pictures.  Or at least we’ll start thinking about where pictures could go and we can lean them against the wall in the right room.  (Baby steps.)  Nearly everything we have (that we’re traveling with) is framed now, so we just have to make some decisions.  Except we’re likely to get more geeky art at the Rhode Island Comic Con this weekend (yay!), so maybe we don’t want to go poking holes in walls just yet.  We can wait another week, right?  And then another…while…before we get frames for the new stuff, and then some more time leaning pictures against walls while we work it out…  I’m sure we’ll have everything on the walls just in time for us to move again.

We’re rough.

Tune in next week for more useless wishing for a longer weekend

Where did the weekend go?  We ran errands on Saturday and went to the last Waterfire of the season (pictures to come).  Today, we went out to breakfast and then got groceries and cleaned.  I need another weekend.  I need more time for reading and exploring and watching more Stranger Things (we started season 2).

Ugh, and I have to work again tomorrow.  That keeps happening!  Who needs work anyway?  All work does is clutter up my life with things that aren’t reading.  Buying stuff and doing fun things that cost money and, like, eating and wearing clothes are over-rated.

This has been this week’s edition of the Sunday Night Blues.  Thank you for reading.

I wish I were Dr. Doolittle

We watched two cats confront each other, which I found hilarious, and I’ve just spent the better part of ten minutes trying to figure out how I wanted to describe it.  I was aiming for too grandiose, I think, so here’s the simplified version:

There was a white cat on the sidewalk and a black cat five or six steps above it on the walk to someone’s front door.  The white cat meowed at the black cat, but the black cat was having none of it.  It kept up a steady low warning growl while the white cat meowed piteously.  I can only assume the white cat was trying to apologize for something awful it did, and the black cat was like, no way, dude, you had your chance.  The white cat followed us a couple of houses down and then settled on the neighbor’s front stoop staring back in the direction of the black cat, literally claiming the high ground.

I wish I knew what they were saying.

Halloween costume

The only thing we wanted to do for Halloween this year was walk around the neighborhood and see the decorations.  At the last minute, I decided it was silly of us to wander around on Halloween without costumes, so I checked my closet et voila!  I was able to put a totally serviceable costume together using clothes I already own AND that I actually wear, although not in this particular combination.

Side ponytail, off-the-shoulder sweatshirt, high-top chucks.  I even tight-rolled my jeans for authenticity.  Then I topped it off with an overly patched acid-wash jean jacket.

I wasn’t 100% committed (no blue eyeshadow, no bangs), but I think it told the right story.  John put on a leather bomber jacket and went as my too-old-for-me boyfriend.

Cookies aren’t supposed to hurt

One of our dining room cabinets smells like cookies all the time and we have no idea why.  We never put cookies in it, and we’ve cleaned it with cleaning products that decidedly do NOT smell like cookies.  I’m not complaining – I really like being surprised with this pleasant smell every time I open the cabinet door – but it’s weird.  It inspired me to buy a scented candle so I could enjoy a pleasant cookie-like scent in other places in the house.

I wouldn’t go so far as to say I have regrets, but I will handle this differently next time.  Today is a chilly day, high in the mid-50s, and it’s a little overcast.  I remembered the candle, thought “what a nice idea!”, and lit it.  It sat on the corner of my desk for an hour or so before I couldn’t take any more Christmas Cookie.  I blew it out and moved it into another room, in front of an open window.

It’s been half an hour. My headache is subsiding, and so is the scent.  It’s fallen into mild and pleasant again.  Next time – there will be a next time – I will try to remember to leave it somewhere MUCH FARTHER AWAY from my head.  Maybe the hallway.