Quick meltdown.
Opie's breathing keeps getting worse and worse. We try new meds, but nothing helps. The doctor says the tumor will eventually split through the bones in his skull. I avoid thinking about this image at all costs.
The house inspection that was supposed to happen this morning got rescheduled, tentatively for this coming Thursday afternoon. It had to be rescheduled because yesterday at around noon, the homeowner decided she didn't want to get up at 8:00 this morning (getting up at the butt crack of dawn isn't my idea of a party either, honeycakes). I've made it quite clear to my realtor that I want *no* fines, fees, or other penalties assessed to me if this thing comes in late, seeing as how I had the inspection scheduled a week ago, and thus held up my end of the bargain. We're still waiting to find out about Thursday, since the homeowner is not answering her phone, and her voicemail is full.
Meanwhile work keeps piling up (we have a new person, but she's been poorly trained, and is therefore not a whole lot of help), and shit keeps rolling downhill.
Oh look -- I'm being paged.
At the moment, all I can do is stare at Dan's leftover needle caps, sitting on my desk. Sweet sweet needles, singing me their siren song ...
The house inspection that was supposed to happen this morning got rescheduled, tentatively for this coming Thursday afternoon. It had to be rescheduled because yesterday at around noon, the homeowner decided she didn't want to get up at 8:00 this morning (getting up at the butt crack of dawn isn't my idea of a party either, honeycakes). I've made it quite clear to my realtor that I want *no* fines, fees, or other penalties assessed to me if this thing comes in late, seeing as how I had the inspection scheduled a week ago, and thus held up my end of the bargain. We're still waiting to find out about Thursday, since the homeowner is not answering her phone, and her voicemail is full.
Meanwhile work keeps piling up (we have a new person, but she's been poorly trained, and is therefore not a whole lot of help), and shit keeps rolling downhill.
Oh look -- I'm being paged.
At the moment, all I can do is stare at Dan's leftover needle caps, sitting on my desk. Sweet sweet needles, singing me their siren song ...