Category Archives: Work

Adult Distraction Syndrome

Definition:  When you start one project but get distracted by another project . . . before you know it, you’ve spent the whole morning outside and didn’t accomplish your original project.
Original project – final measurements for the “buy the downspout” project.
What actually happened . . .
I step out onto the patio and discover the bird feeder is empty so I fill the bird feeder
After shutting the door to the garage and walking back to the house I decide to do “poop patrol” and pick up the poop that accumulated since yesterday.
But before I get the supplies I need for “poop patrol” I decide to do some weeding in the flower bed in front of the garage.  What do you know?  The ground is soft enough that the weeds come out easily.  I weed for a bit and realize I’m supposed to be doing something else.
I get the measurements I need and notice that there’s a lot of lint on the ground in front of the dryer vent.  I should probably check that out.  Prince Charming was a stickler for cleaning out the dryer vent at least once every year . . . I’m not as dedicated as he was . . . I have no idea the last time I cleaned the dryer vent.
Cleaning the dryer vent involves walking around the house because we only have one gate in the front of the house.  Walking around the house means walking past the flower bed that used to have the English Ivy in it.  One of my dear neighbors sprayed the English Ivy with weed killer for me last year and killed all the ivy.  I managed to get most of it out of the ground but there are still some stubborn pieces that need to come out.  I wondered if the ground was soft enough for that to come out easily too.  So I stopped and tugged on a few of the stubborn pieces.  Sure enough, they came right out!!  After a few minutes I realized I was supposed to be doing something else . . . and went to check the dryer vent.
The dryer vent was mostly clear and I picked up the a good bit of the lint that was on the ground.  It was about this time that I had the realization that the crap the birds have strung all over the yard was lint from the dryer vent.  Dang messy birds!!  And I realized that I needed to check the dryer tube thing that runs from the back of the dryer to the dryer vent to make sure it wasn’t clogged.  Which meant walking back around the house and going to the basement.
I go to the basement and take apart the dryer tube thing and clean it out as much as I can.  It doesn’t look too bad  I even check where the tube thing goes into the dryer and get that lint out too.  Prince Charming would be so proud of me.  It’s a little cramped in the space between the dryer and the washer and I’m kind of claustrophobic so I don’t dawdle too much with this task.
So I’ve got all this stuff done. . . none of them on my To Do list for today.  It’s now noon, I haven’t had a shower yet, and I will need lunch before I go shopping.  My plan was to be done with shopping at the hardware store by noon.  And I wonder why my days off are never very productive.

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Drama, Drama, Drama

The most interesting part of working in the front office of a high school is seeing the drama that unfolds on a (almost) daily basis with the high school students.

The hardest part of working in the front office of a high school is not laughing at the drama that unfolds on a (almost) daily basis with the high school students.


This was supposed to post yesterday!  I’m still working out the kinks in the “schedule a post” thing.




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Terrible Horrible Very Bad Day

There’s a short story or a poem about a little boy that is having what he calls a “terrible, horrible, very bad day”.

I feel like I’m living that right now.

Work drama.  Work issues.  Anxiety.  Angst.  I don’t like my job very much right now.

But there are people at work who are bright spots.  They make me smile.  They give me confidence.  They give me hope that things are gonna get better.

I lost one of those people Monday night.  No warning.  One minute he was here.  The next minute he was gone.  I last saw him on Friday.  My last words to him expressed my frustration with the daily drama of the job.  I don’t remember his last words to me, but I remember they made me smile.

They make me smile even now through the tears.

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Monday Night

Date night . . . at Chipotle

Errands at Wally World

We’ve decided we live in Pajama Bottom Town . . . everyone is wearing them so it must be a new fashion trend

Watching football . . . why is Tampa Bay so bad . . . and when did Indy get good?

Prince Charming goes to work in two days . . . we’re both so excited we can’t stand it!

Poor puppies are gonna miss him . . .

Lunch will certainly be different . . .

But the paycheck will more than make up for it!

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Sure Sign of Fall

I got my flu shot today . . .




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Things I Wish I Could Say

I work at the community mental health center in Smalltown.  Part of my job is to manage the patient assistance program that helps patients get their meds when they can’t afford them . . . and some of those meds are OMG Expensive!  We give samples when we have them, we have a couple of programs that provide meds to patients at no cost to them.  Because of the economy, the number of clients I deal with seems to increase each month.    Most of the time, this is a very interesting and satisfying part of my job.  Sometimes it’s a thankless energy drain that keeps me running all day.  Yesterday was one of those thankless days.  I spent the day wishing I could say this outloud . . . but I can’t . . . so I’m writing it here.

I’m not your sweetie.  I’m not your honey.  I’m not a dear or a darlin.  I don’t care if you want me to have a blessed day.  This is my job.  I give every patient’s request the utmost care and attention.  Flattery isn’t going to speed up the process.

I don’t care why you couldn’t call before you took your last pill.  If the meds aren’t here, the meds aren’t here.  I can’t snap my fingers and make them magically appear because you’re out and you gotta have them.  The reason I ask that you give me a week’s notice before you run out is so that the meds are here when you need them.  I can’t just “call in a refill” for you.  I have to get an order from a doctor and I can’t help it if the doctor is with a patient/on the phone/gone for the day.  I don’t care how your meds got lost.  I don’t care why you can’t come and get your meds today and you need to have your sister’s husband’s second cousin pick them up for you.  The more dramatic you make the story; the less likely I am to believe it.

If you call me and leave a message for me to call you back, you need to answer the phone when I do call back.  If you do answer the phone, don’t pretend it’s not you because “out of area” came up on the caller id and you think I’m a bill collector.  If you haven’t heard from me, it’s not because I don’t want to talk to you and I’m ignoring you or your request – it’s probably because the number you left is no longer in service, or your voice mailbox is full, or the doctor hasn’t had a chance to reply to the few dozen earlier messages you’ve left already today.  Trust me when I tell you that I will make sure the doctor gets your message.  It’s not necessary for you to call every half hour to see if I’ve talked to the doctor yet.

If you show up at the front window expecting to pick up meds when you haven’t called ahead, don’t get snippy with the girls at the front desk if they aren’t there.  Don’t get snippy with me when I bring the meds to you.  This isn’t Wal-Mart and we don’t have an Automatic Refill Service.  You have to tell me you need the meds so I can get them ready for you.  I don’t have a bunch of little elves in the med room putting orders together for me.  If you call and make a big fuss about needing samples of your meds, please come and pick them up promptly.  If they are still there and not picked up after a month, I put them back so someone else can use them.  Once that happens, I have to get a new order from the doc for samples and explain to him that you didn’t pick up the last batch he ordered for you.

They’re your meds.  This is your illness/disease/problem.  It’s your responsibility to manage your meds.  I do understand what you are going through but I’m not Superman.  I have rules/limits/laws that I have to follow.  Sometimes you have to accept the word “NO” and I’m not being mean when I tell you “no”.

Whew!  I feel better now!

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Bits & Pieces

 Lots of little stuff running through my head.  Just have to share . . .
Stopped at the post office today to ship a package to Princess (my step-daughter) and the Grandkids.  Saw something that made me shake my head in wonder.  You know those young guys that wear their jeans low on their hip so their boxers show?  This guy had his jeans down over his butt and had almost ALL of his boxers showing.  The best part?  He was wearing a BELT to make sure the pants didn’t fall down.  His girlfriend was walking three paces ahead of him. 
I saw the commercial for the new season of Grey’s Anatomy.  Seriously?  Oh. My. Gawrsh.  An ad agency was paid a lot of money for this? Seriously?  Seriously.
Miracle Girl (my youngest niece) has signed up to be a cheerleader for the local Pee Wee football team.  She’s a little on the shy side so it’s a big deal for her to want to do something like this.  She was at Mom’s on Tuesday night and we asked her to show off some of her new cheers.  The only way we could convince her to do the cheers was to have someone stand up and do them with her.  The person who did the cheers with Miracle Girl was none other than her daddy.  My Mr. Tough Guy Rock Star Baby Brother stood next to his little 6 year old daughter and did football cheers – including hand motions and jumps – in front of me, Mom & Dad, my sisters, and my nieces.  I just wish I had a camera to capture the moment.  
Princess has been calling and talking to Hubby.  Their on-again/off-again is in the on-again phase right now.  Hubby is thrilled to have his little girl back in his life but I’m holding judgment on this for the time being.  We’ve been down this road before, and I’m not totally convinced that she’s not up to something.  For Hubby’s sake, I pray that I’m wrong.
Hubby has been getting some interesting referrals for his fishing rod repair business.  The work I’ve been doing putting stuff on the website is paying off – slowly but surely.  One caller even said that Hubby was “highly recommended” by one of the pro fishermen we met at the fishing expo last month.  
As part of my new job, I have to make calls to patients to confirm medication orders, arrange for sample pick-up, etc.  A lot of our patients have cell phones instead regular land-line phones.  Something I’ve noticed is that a lot of them have something called ringback tones.  You hear some song instead of the usual ringing sound when you call someone.  Oh. My. Garwsh.  These things are annoying.  And usually it’s a disgusting rap song.  I need to clean my ears out after calling some patients.  Does this mean that I’m an old fogie? 
Speaking of cell phones, I do not understand why patients in the waiting room feel they must share all the details of personal cell phone calls with everyone.  You would not believe the things I’ve overheard being discussed by some of the patients.  Enough to make me blush!

I ran into my high school sweetheart today.  He was “the one” and I was engaged to him before I met Hubby.  We broke up over 25 years ago (gulp!) and the last time I saw him was about 15 years ago when I ran into him in at one of the big department stores here in town.  Today’s encounter caught me totally off guard.  We both live in the same little town, but we never run into each other.  I thought I recognized him, but I wasn’t sure.  Then he said something and I knew for sure it was him.  The beautiful brown hair was cut a lot shorter than I remembered and he was heavier in the face, but I’d recognize that voice and those eyes anywhere.  You could have knocked me over with a feather.  I kept my composure, smiled my biggest smile and did the small talk thing for a couple of minutes.  The longest couple of minutes of my life . . .
I have to admit that I haven’t had a week this interesting in a very long time . . . 



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