Just heard Darla on "Angel" yell those words at the main character ... so decided it would make a great title for the blog. Eh, not bad.
As most of you know, I work at the local big box store. The one purported to eat up all the other businesses and shit them all out of its ginormous backside. It's convenient, close to home, and oh yeah, after 15 years of being a stay-at-home mom, the only place who would employ me. And when you have a nutso husband getting ready to leave you after 23 years of being together, getting a job is pretty important.
First, I was part of the rebuild crew. The people that take a small store and make it SUPER. Very hard work, heavy lifting, monotonous, unskilled, and rather painful. Then I got the call last Saturday night -- an offer of a permanent position and off the rebuild crew. A position I actually wanted.
I started this job last night and it's better. No more building the store. Now I'm in the command center ... okay, they call it the back room, but that's because it would make the other employees jealous. "I'm in the command center, where are you?" Okay, that's how I see it anyhow. So, I'm in the command center ... basically pulling inventory, putting it on carts for the stockers, taking their inventory back in the morning, and putting it back up on "the steel." All this needs to be done electronically. Every single piece needs to have a special place and needs to be recorded or ... total chaos. Seriously. TIME WOULD STAND STILL. Speaking of time, my job is timed, on a ticking click. Like that hit show "24." You don't get the first part (the pulling) done by 2:30am and a bomb goes off. Well, all right, not literally, but you are screwed because all the intel gets wiped out of our handheld scanners ... and the boss, he'll have your ass because you didn't do your job.
I'm a donkey, a pull horse ... perhaps even a goat at times. And there's always the feel of the whip at my back and the screams of FASTER FASTER.
Still, I got a raise and I know it's good that in this bad economy, I'm making a few more dollars than minimum wage when I haven't "worked" in over a decade, but there's still this nagging thing, this voice asking, "Is this really for you?" Or worse, the one that asks, "Are you happy?" Or more terrible still, "Is my brain replacing all the information that makes me, well ME, and replacing it with this junk? Will I someday not care how I look, lose a few teeth, about 50 IQ points, and live alone with like 50 cats?"
I guess change is like this and if it didn't hurt sometimes, you really wouldn't change at all. The one thing I've learned more than any other is don't get comfortable. The minute things get nice and cozy, here comes major upheaval. And ... if you're a woman who relies on someone else for a living, make damned sure you can get a career in case he leaves, dies, or disappears. But love, like life, is forever taken for granted and so my warning will go unheeded.
Maybe it's just more important what I tell myself. Like, "You did good, Beth. You're doing this all on your own with no one's help and you're actually thriving in your own humble way. Even with a broken heart, you're holding it all together instead of crumbling into a billion pieces. Job well done."
I know a lot of you are not only computer savvy, but computer geniuses. I am trying to figure out how to get an RSS feed and an e-mail (to join my e-mail list) on my www.thriftybif.com site. It's one of the most important parts of the site (besides good posts). I have the html for the RSS, not the e-mail. Anyone know how I get it on my site in a prominent place?
My regular e-mail most people know, but if not, I'll put it in comments to keep the bots from following me. Thanks for any help.
I have to say, the weirdest thing about working now is being around all those males. I can't say I'm honestly attracted to any of them. I mean, heck, I'm still married, I still live with my husband (until November) and I take my vows seriously (even if he says we're over), but I find myself looking at a dude that's 20. 20!!! I'm 38. Almost twice this kid's age.
Yes, I know ... that's wrong. i wouldn't do anything. I wouldn't act on it. I've been hit on, I've had a few different approaches and nothing. I shut them down, but this kid seems interesting. Maybe because I don't work with him and he just seems shy.
I mean, I feel like a pervert. This isn't some hot pretty boy. He just has a nice face, he's not tall, and he reminds me of a hobbit. Still wrong, I know. Shire or no shire.
So, what do you think? In matters of amore or just hot sex, does age matter? Not that I'm even remotely wanting hot sex. Luke warm will do just fine. (kidding ... I want hot) (kidding in general)
(Please, pay attention until the every end of the post to see the special announcement ... no, really, even you skimmers out there ... it's a good one)
Where've I been? Well, this is one of those times where I can say, "I've been everywhere, man." I just can't sing it like Johnny Cash.
First things first, I'm getting a divorce. My husband went off his depression meds a while ago and things were good and then they weren't. Like most bi-polar people, he thinks he's fine, everyone else is wrong. There was nothing I could do. He has convinced himself a life without me is best (after 23 years) even though he still loves me just as much as the day we first met or the day he realized he loved me, whichever. There is no other woman. (I actually checked extensively and did stake-outs, checked all phone records, talked to people where he works, etc. Hey, I had to be sure!)
Then it was ultimatum time from him. Do this and we'll stay together. Stand on one foot while you fry an egg. That kind of stuff. Not really, but just as crazy. And one day, I just said, "No. I love you, but I choose me." Sooooo ....
I got a job. A real job. And its construction. (not kidding) I went everywhere where I would normally get a job (like offices), but being a stay-at-home mom with no contacts after 16 years does not make you a hot commodity. So, I went to stores and such and only one replied and I said, "No matter what, I'm working my ass off for this company."
Now I'm helping to build the Super "Big Box Store" where I live. It's such hard work that I'm the only woman. (Heck yeah, I'm proud of that fact.) One other one quit and the other saw what we were doing and said, "No, thanks ... without even trying."
Most of you know I'm a hermit and that I need to take pills to function in ordinary life. So, I went to the doc and told her I needed a BUNCH of pills to live an extraordinary life or else my husband would have me trying to walk on the ceiling while trying to mop floors and she obliged me. I still have panic, there are days I want to hide under a rock, but I haven't missed a day (or night, since it's the graveyard shift) or a minute of work no matter how I felt physically or emotionally.
The first few weeks I had bloody feet, a severely bruised body, and a broken heart. Now everything but the heart seems to be back in order. My husband will be leaving by November by my choice. He wanted to stay another two years while the kids were in school, but I'm the kind of person who would rather pull a Band-Aid off in two seconds than bit by bit. I think it hurts less in the end.
And oh, did I mention I'm getting ripped? One of the many benefits of hard physical labor. Your brain turns to mush, but your body becomes a rock. I hope you all have had a terrific few months and I will check-in with each and every one of you to make sure.
Special announcement: I started my own green website. I couldn't let my brain go to total mush. With the help of Amy and her friends for the techy stuff and Amy for the artsy stuff, I bring you www.thriftybif.com. Tell your friends ... and even your enemies.)
