In Which All Hell Breaks Loose

As you could probably infer from the title of today's post, I am a tad stressed out. Not that I'm ever totally stress-free, but I'm definitely feeling a lot more pressure than usual these days from just about every aspect of my life, Which completely makes me sound like a Drama Queen, and perhaps I am, but whatever else I am, I am Stressed. Out.

The Reasons Why—

The Store Front:

The mass employee exodus continues, which is impressive given how few of us there were before. I inadvertently added to the stress when I injured my back. The initial injury happened almost three weeks ago (and will continue to be a factor for at least a few weeks more), and I missed two solid weeks because of it.

Now, when I'm away from the Store for a single week, I always come back to a gigantic mess. But after missing two weeks, I'm not exactly sure there is a word to describe the state of the stockroom at this precise moment. Well, maybe 'clusterfuck.' That might begin to cover it. It will take me weeks to untangle it all.

I've joked a lot about how The Store cannot run without me, but now I seem to have undeniable proof. So I have gone back to work, though medically I should not have, because The Store is that damn desperate that a stock girl working at quarter capacity is better than nothing because our two busiest weekends of the entire year are fast approaching, and we will need every soul we can get.

Oh, and The Store will be opening at 5pm Thanksgiving Day. We will not close again until 9pm Friday night. I was hoping to have to work a 28-hour shift. Thanks, Corporate. You're the best.

The Home Front:

The Man and I shall be celebrating our 18th anniversary at the end of the week, and for as long as I have known him, he has wanted to abandon the New England winters for someplace warm. He does not like the cold. But ever year, I manage to keep us where we are. I love New England, and if I were to ever move, I would want to head farther north.

But, somehow, instead I will be moving south.

That's right. The Man finally got me to agree to moving south of the Mason-Dixon line. I'm not sure how that happened, but I'm guessing beer was involved. (Beer makes me think a lot of things are good ideas. I should probably never drink beer.)

So sometime after the New Year, I will be moving. This has several implications:

1. I will quit working at The Store.
2. I have to—Oh My God! I will quit working at The Store!
3. Also, I will have to pack up my entire household and move it very far away from where it is now.
4. I will quit working at The Store.

I have told The Man that I will NOT move before the New Year, and I really thought it would work out because it was bound to take a long time to actually sell our house. But instead we have a list of interested parties who want to buy it. The first viewing already happened, and the second is scheduled for tomorrow afternoon. The third on Friday. I suppose this is a good thing, but selling the house means I will have to move my household and quit my crappy job a lot sooner than I had planned.

Well, maybe that isn't all bad, then.

The Writing Front

Because of the previous two fronts, this particular front has been shoved so far down the To-Do List, it shouldn't even be considered a front. I believe I have quite literally have 5,000 things to do at the moment. As a result, The Big Bold Goal (Finish Lineage—a grand total of 20 scenes in various states of completion) has been completely abandoned, as have my NaNoWriMo plans. At first, when I was awarded/sentenced to a (forced) two-week vacation from The Store, I thought "Yipee! I'll be able to finish those scenes!" But without the pain meds, all I could do was cry, and with the pain meds all I could do was watch the Game Show Network and yell at Betty White for not knowing the answer was 'snowflake.' (Sorry about that Twitter feed, gang,) (Also, the answer, I'm told, wasn't even 'snowflake' and Betty White wasn't anywhere to be seen...)

I'm still writing when I can find a few spare moments (I've managed to finish three of the twenty scenes), but it'll have to be all right because that's currently all there is. There's always January.

Wait. I'll probably be moving in January.

There's always February.

Probably.

◄ Newer Post Older Post ►
 

Copyright 2011 My Pet Blog is proudly powered by blogger.com