gettin' medieval

i had my reunion last week. after a tug of war--one side of me not wanting to pack or get on a plane or talk about my plant and the other side of me not wanting to have to go to work--i decided that home and a reunion was better any day than coming to work during an exceptionally busy week. so i left, and i'm glad i did. though the reunion was brimming with lovely ladies with babies and hubbies, none of that bothered me. i was just glad to be back with people whom i'd spent eight years with. i was delighted to see them and spend time with, and i didn't mind talking about what i wish i was doing with my life versus what i am doing. as long as i looked good saying it, what difference did it make? we all have our crosses to bear--broken relationships, ho-hum jobs, sketchy tans, questionable physical modifications--we just have to own it, n'est-ce pas?

so it was great. and well worth the travel and turbulence i had to pray myself through on the way back. and here i am...back at work. i had to google heart murmurs yesterday because i was convinced that this place was giving me one. this morning, the temp asked me if i was still "looking for a writing job". first off, i had to explain to her that this isn't the type of shit that gets posted on craigslist. then i glossed over what i'd been doing the past weeks/months in terms of pursuing my career. she proceeded to tell me how she thinks she's going to have to start looking for something permanent because she needs a job with vacation time, benefits, etc. i totally agreed with her. she SHOULD look for something else, and i'm not just saying that because of the whole dog incident. as i was shaking my head in agreement however, i realized that the bitch was trying to overthrow me. essentially, her innocent inquiry regarding my career pursuits was not innocent at all. she was probing to see if she might be able to take my job. my theory was proven when she sly said that my office should just add on one more person. now, don't get me wrong. y'all know i'm not protective of my job by any means. but don't be a sneaky bastard. i really got the sense that i need to watch my back now--18th century style. like i should hide a dagger in my cloak or make sure she's not the one pouring wine into my goblet lest ye blogger meet an ill fate.

trust me, i am more than ready to pass this gig on to my successor, but is it wrong to not want her to have it? i really shouldn't give a rat's ass considering how little enthusiasm i have for what i do, but there's a part of me that would be willing to endure this madness longer than i'd have to JUST to undermine her chances of getting the job. what a bitch i am! i'm sorry. i know, i know. it's terrible. and i don't WANT to feel that way, but i do. it's sick...and twisted.

she just sat down next to me, so i 'reckon i should close up shop.

i can't believe i've held this job for two years, L.A.