It's TMI day!
Okay, so there's actually not too much that needed to be cut, but I'd rather do one cut than several for some reason.
First off, what in the world is going on with the stupid downstairs computer??? It worked, and I was online several times, but when I tried to get online again just a short time ago, it wouldn't happen. What could I have done that would make it do that? Is there something strange with that computer? And, even dad's laptop was having issues. He keeps coming up to this computer (upstairs, if you didn't guess) and resetting the server. I didn't realize you could do that. So, the frustrations continue.
Second, the weather. When I woke up it was rainy; when I came down from my shower, it was sleety; as I finished breakfast, ten minutes after that, it had started snowing. When I left work it had stopped. It looked really pretty outside, like get-out-your-camera-and-take-pictures pretty. Everything had this dusting of snow. It was like someone had gone around with a paintbrush to make it look perfect. Now, it's just going to freeze. Maybe that means it'll stay this way for a few days.
Today was the last day of the kiosk. I was lamenting that fact as I opened upstairs and waited for my coworker to show up...and waited...and waited...and it was 10, so I had to open upstairs, but he still wasn't in yet...then the phone rang. He'd just gotten his car started. Never mind that, unless I warn him beforehand that it's just him and me, he's usually ten minutes late to begin with. The boss got in ten minutes later, so once he got settled I ran down and opened the kiosk. My illustrious coworker didn't show up until 10:35...fifty minutes late. He was so late that he no longer qualified to take a half-hour lunch break, but he got one anyway. I think we were going to ask him to stay later if possible, because the person who was next due downstairs wasn't going to come in. This person, P, can be such a good worker, but she's also a pain in the ass. You'd think she was seven and not 47 sometimes. Anyway, she'd gotten stuck down in the kiosk last night when A. wasn't able to get a ride. (A. doesn't have a license and always has to bum rides off her friends, as her parents pretty much refuse. Hmm, can we guess that A.'s friends are getting tired of chauffeuring her around?) This meant no breaks for P and K, who was upstairs. P also likes to bring a bag down with her, even though we're not supposed to have personal effects down there. We're talking a tote bag with food, drink, and a book. What is this, a picnic? Anyway, P called this morning and said she wasn't feeling well. She could have left it at that, but went on to say it was a female issue. Okay, great, I don't actually need to know. It's hard to tell if she was upset about last night or what. I do know she has total bathroom issues, and with said female issue she'd probably be in the bathroom a LOT (because God forbid you have to wear both a pad and a tampon at the same time to get through the day). She wasn't due in until after I left, so I don't know what happened. I do know that we'd have managed, though it would have been a pain in the ass.
Then, I get home. And my mother is in some lovely mood (NOT related to female issues, as we had her fixed several years back). Okay, so we know I've had bed issues. I've finally decided that I'm keeping the frame and the box spring my grandma gave me, but I have my original firm mattress on top. It is not the same size. I have no problem with this. My mother does. She seems to think I am crazy because my mattress does not match size with the rest of the bed. No, it's called I don't feel like moving beds AGAIN. And then it turns into something like it's psychological, and I can't handle change, and this that and the other. Thanks, Dr. Phil. No, I don't want my old bed back. I actually like it being gone, as it means my bird does not fly all over my bed leaving crap everywhere anymore. I was actually disappointed that the bed didn't work. If I'd have known I couldn't sleep on such a soft mattress, I would never have taken it. But, it turns out I have to have a firm mattress. Finding out I can't sleep and can't walk because of soft mattresses kind of does that for you. Oh, no, but my pain must have been psychosomatic. As was my inability to fall asleep because I wasn't comfortable. Mm-hm. She kept harping on how weird I am because of the stupid mismatched bed. Again, I don't feel like moving the bed back. It's a pain. Why do it again when I can deal with it the way it is? And, actually, I like having some of the box spring sticking out...it makes a little bedside table. And it's so not like I'm bringing people over to the house. Anyone that even comes in is relegated to the first floor anyway. Then she's like, you never bring guys home. Well, let's see...that's because I'm single and very picky. Virtually none of the guys I know are people I want to hook up with. And it's kind of weird to bring them to my house when I live with Mommy and Daddy, don't you think? So *THEN* she starts asking about my sex life! Whoa. Okay, guess what, off limits. My sex life, and whether or not I have one, is completely none of your business. I did leave her thinking with some of my answers to her questions, but mostly I was evasive. You know why? This is not a need-to-know area for her. I was so completely flabbergasted by her, and that she kept pestering me for minimum five minutes, that I was rendered speechless. "Oh, so that's how I get you to stop talking!" Yes, mom, ask me about things that aren't your business. And this is the point where I realize, I have to get some money, somehow, to get out of this house. Or, get her out, but I would totally have to prostitute myself to be able to afford this place. (Not that I would tell her about that, mind you.) So, um, who wants to contribute to the Get Jen Out of Here Fund? I'll send you a complimentary...um...*digging around the desk*...copy of Turbo Tax 2003! Just like new! Or would you prefer the calculator that has a smudge on its reading? It's solar-powered, so it still works.
Okay, OMG, it sounds like something is trying to break in through the window to this room. I am on the second floor. There is no balcony and there are no trees. Unless you're on a ladder, there is NO WAY to get to this window. I'm freaked, I'm totally freaked...