Nothing but the dead and dieing back in my little town
I am home from college due to winter break and the birth of our Lord Jesus Christ. I am relieved to be rid of the past semester; it was a joke and a waste of money and time. I'm pretty sure it screwed up my GPA and any chance of keeping my scholarship. But despite these worries, I'm surprisingly chipper.
It's cold and windy outside and my legs are hairy. It's a little experiment of mine to see if God is just. Will the hair actually keep my legs any warmer, the presumed function of hairy legs? If the hair does keep me warmer then I will concede to God's choice of putting it on my legs, but if it does not then I will resent his choice with every stroke of the razor.
I am sitting in front of the computer at work--I say work in the loosest sense of the word because I really don't do much of what the word implies. I sit behind a desk for ten hours on Sundays. During these ten hours I do a number of various things, all of which I get payed for. I watch TV, listen to music, talk on the phone, and surf the internet. I also usually bring some type of craft. This week I chose to learn how to knit. I checked out a book from the library last Tuesday in anticipation of this empty 10 hours to fill. Within the first hour upon arriving at work, I usually make a Today the list read as follows:
-Straighten clothing racks
-Call Tiffany
-Learn to Knit
-Finish scarf
-Write entry in livejournal
As you can see not much actual work is done. Actually I have so much time on my hands that I wrote out this entry first longhand on a yellow legal pad just to practice my cursive writing, which needs more work 'cause I can hardly make out what I wrote.
I am only interrupted from this list of activities by the infrequent nut who attempts to play golf in this hostile weather or by the occasional phone call to cancel because of the hostile weather. Other than these few chores, I have the whole day to do whatever I want. It's really quite amazing. These days of work (Sundays) are basically the only days during my entire vacation that I actually accomplish anything. At the end of work I usually feel pretty good about life.
However this job does have it's drawbacks. One really annoying thing about this job is a gadget called "Time Mist." The pro shop has two, hanging on adjacent walls. Every half hour they alternately spray a burst of something accompanied with a sound that sounds like a Darth Vader chucking a loogy. What the spray is, I'm not sure of. My incredible deductive skills tell me the spray is either air freshener or anthrax. Whatever it is, it's making me queasy. But the nausea I can handle, it's the noise that bugs me. When I first got here I didn't know what was making that noise. I thought it was a Panther in the attic or something then I rek-a-nized.
There is one thing that I absolutely hate even more than the blasted Time Mist--the job itself reveals the real, absolute, freakin idiot that is me. People call the golf course with simple answers that any half brained twit could answer, but not me. I just end up telling them I don't know and instruct them to call back tomorrow. I'm actually pretty useless. When people do wander into the pro shop and want to golf I have the opportunity and duty to ring them up on the computer for their round of golf but I'm pretty sure I screw it up about 80% of the time. It's not like it's hard or anything, either. The computer is a freakin touch screen for cryin out loud! A blind, retarded monkey with no legs could operate it. Today, of the eleven people that have come in the past six hours, I'd say I screwed up six of the transactions and those are only the ones I caught. Even when I do see that I mess up, I don't do anything. I figure they'll catch it on their bill later and then they can't get mad because they won't remember who rang them up. I'm such a retard when it comes to people. For instance, there is a guy that works downstairs named Tim. He comes into work at 1:00 every Sunday. I cringe when he comes through the doorway, not because he is annoying or anything, but because I know what he will ask and I know how I will answer and I know the conversation will further exacerbate just how much that retarded monkey is a better choice for this job. After the awkward hellos, he asks, "Is it busy out there?" I wittily respond, "Nope." His second question is always something to the effect of, "Keeping busy?" To which I reply with my TO DO list. Today I went into great detail about my new knitting knowledge explaining every cast and purl. He seemed surprisingly interested, but now I realize what I interpreted as interested was just curiosity as to how what I called the beginning of a scarf was anything more than a bunch of crappy knots on a stick. Anyway, all of these "conversations" are wrapped up exactly as follows: "Yep." "okaaay." Who say which doesn't matter because we both mean the same thing: "Caitlin is such a geek."
But really, my job is friggin' sweet.
I have a lot of fun stuff to write about but this entry is entirely too long as it is so they will have to wait. I'll leave you with these tantalizing trailers of the coming attractions to leave you wanting more:
-My Caribbean Christmas
-Uncle Jimmy the Crane Master
-Life Aquatic with Heather Smith
It's cold and windy outside and my legs are hairy. It's a little experiment of mine to see if God is just. Will the hair actually keep my legs any warmer, the presumed function of hairy legs? If the hair does keep me warmer then I will concede to God's choice of putting it on my legs, but if it does not then I will resent his choice with every stroke of the razor.
I am sitting in front of the computer at work--I say work in the loosest sense of the word because I really don't do much of what the word implies. I sit behind a desk for ten hours on Sundays. During these ten hours I do a number of various things, all of which I get payed for. I watch TV, listen to music, talk on the phone, and surf the internet. I also usually bring some type of craft. This week I chose to learn how to knit. I checked out a book from the library last Tuesday in anticipation of this empty 10 hours to fill. Within the first hour upon arriving at work, I usually make a Today the list read as follows:
-Straighten clothing racks
-Call Tiffany
-Learn to Knit
-Finish scarf
-Write entry in livejournal
As you can see not much actual work is done. Actually I have so much time on my hands that I wrote out this entry first longhand on a yellow legal pad just to practice my cursive writing, which needs more work 'cause I can hardly make out what I wrote.
I am only interrupted from this list of activities by the infrequent nut who attempts to play golf in this hostile weather or by the occasional phone call to cancel because of the hostile weather. Other than these few chores, I have the whole day to do whatever I want. It's really quite amazing. These days of work (Sundays) are basically the only days during my entire vacation that I actually accomplish anything. At the end of work I usually feel pretty good about life.
However this job does have it's drawbacks. One really annoying thing about this job is a gadget called "Time Mist." The pro shop has two, hanging on adjacent walls. Every half hour they alternately spray a burst of something accompanied with a sound that sounds like a Darth Vader chucking a loogy. What the spray is, I'm not sure of. My incredible deductive skills tell me the spray is either air freshener or anthrax. Whatever it is, it's making me queasy. But the nausea I can handle, it's the noise that bugs me. When I first got here I didn't know what was making that noise. I thought it was a Panther in the attic or something then I rek-a-nized.
There is one thing that I absolutely hate even more than the blasted Time Mist--the job itself reveals the real, absolute, freakin idiot that is me. People call the golf course with simple answers that any half brained twit could answer, but not me. I just end up telling them I don't know and instruct them to call back tomorrow. I'm actually pretty useless. When people do wander into the pro shop and want to golf I have the opportunity and duty to ring them up on the computer for their round of golf but I'm pretty sure I screw it up about 80% of the time. It's not like it's hard or anything, either. The computer is a freakin touch screen for cryin out loud! A blind, retarded monkey with no legs could operate it. Today, of the eleven people that have come in the past six hours, I'd say I screwed up six of the transactions and those are only the ones I caught. Even when I do see that I mess up, I don't do anything. I figure they'll catch it on their bill later and then they can't get mad because they won't remember who rang them up. I'm such a retard when it comes to people. For instance, there is a guy that works downstairs named Tim. He comes into work at 1:00 every Sunday. I cringe when he comes through the doorway, not because he is annoying or anything, but because I know what he will ask and I know how I will answer and I know the conversation will further exacerbate just how much that retarded monkey is a better choice for this job. After the awkward hellos, he asks, "Is it busy out there?" I wittily respond, "Nope." His second question is always something to the effect of, "Keeping busy?" To which I reply with my TO DO list. Today I went into great detail about my new knitting knowledge explaining every cast and purl. He seemed surprisingly interested, but now I realize what I interpreted as interested was just curiosity as to how what I called the beginning of a scarf was anything more than a bunch of crappy knots on a stick. Anyway, all of these "conversations" are wrapped up exactly as follows: "Yep." "okaaay." Who say which doesn't matter because we both mean the same thing: "Caitlin is such a geek."
But really, my job is friggin' sweet.
I have a lot of fun stuff to write about but this entry is entirely too long as it is so they will have to wait. I'll leave you with these tantalizing trailers of the coming attractions to leave you wanting more:
-My Caribbean Christmas
-Uncle Jimmy the Crane Master
-Life Aquatic with Heather Smith