Work. We've finished training the newbies for night shift. They both have previous call center experience and they catch on very quickly, which is great!
The best part about work, though, is that my schedule may be changing soon. I talked to my supervisor about bumping me to a mid schedule (especially now since we're almost overly-stocked for night shift), which would entail 10-6 and 10-7 shifts. I'll be able to run errands before things close, to visit with Mom when she gets off work at 6pm, to actually free up my evenings now and again for friends and family... you know, if my request is approved. I feel confident that it will be; my supervisor has mentioned that there are some upcoming changes in the department. She also asked if I'd be willing to talk to her about attending an upcoming leadship/customer relations training course, and I told her yes. If they're thinking of bumping me up to customer relations, however, I'm asking for a raise. We'll see how that pans out.
***
Daisy. My nerves are shot. I am so wound up about taking Daisy (my sweet furbaby, a fifteen-year-old cat, who still lives with my Mom because of my poor husband's cat allergies) to the vet tomorrow. My father, a life-long dog person and disliker of cats, absolutely loved Daisy. She was the exception to his UGH-CATS rule, and she was his couch snuggle buddy. Ever since Dad died, her health (which wasn't the best in the first place -- I'm pretty sure she's going blind, because she has cataracts in both of her eyes) has declined rapidly. She's begun losing control of her bladder on her way to her litter box and she hasn't eaten a thing in nearly three days now.
The only time all week she has come out from hiding in her "spot" underneath a corner table beside the couch, Mom says, was yesterday when J & I were visiting Mom before I had to go to work. She came out to meet me when she heard my voice and I picked her up and cradled her, swaying her side-to-side like a baby. After a few minutes, I sat with her on the couch, next to J, where she snuggled between us and slept the entire time we were there.
I'm afraid that the vet will give us bad news. I want to be optimistic, I want to think something can be cured with an antibiotic or a shot, but I just don't know. It's so hard to think about letting her go, even harder now that Dad's gone, but if there's something wrong with her that can't be fixed, it's not fair of us to keep her around if she's in pain.
***
Home. Things have been going well at home, as always. I feel more and more like this new apartment (I keep saying new, but we've been here for
three months) is our home, because I know we'll be here for the remainder of our time in this town. I've been in a crazy nesting mood, too.
I want to decorate and I've begun looking at furniture that we'll soon call ours (keep in mind we're not buying stuff
just to buy it -- we actually need new furniture, and since everything here right now was ours individually before we knew each other, it's simply exciting to be making purchasing choices together for
our stuff to replace
my stuff -- isn't that gross? -- we're saps, sorry).
Also, as I type, I've just put a pan of Mexican cornbread in the oven. Here's the funny thing about that -- I don't cook. I've
never cooked. Granny and Mom have been pillars in the community of feeding people here with their amazing food, yet I don't cook. I've never had an interest in it. Well, since I got off work a couple of hours before J tonight, he asked me to go ahead and make the cornbread for our supper according to my Granny's recipe (I have her old recipe boxes filled with her recipes -- I wanted them for her handwriting, not for my cooking prowess, but J has made good use of them for sure). Being the melodramatic kitchen-phobic that I am, I apologized to my poor Granny the whole time I was mixing up the cornbread, because I'm 110% sure that I've screwed it up somehow. BUT. What if it comes out and it's awesome (however unlikely that may be)? Mexican cornbread for everyone I know and love! Huzzah!
***
Family. You wanna know what's super? My little sister (she's 23) and her husband finally moved into their very first apartment today... after being married for five years and living with other people. I'm so elated for her! I haven't seen the place yet, but Mom followed them today and said that she thinks it'll work out well for them, since they finally found somewhere to take all of their animals (two snakes, one bearded dragon, two ferrets, one giant black derpy labrador, and a cat... I think) without an insane pet deposit. Finally, a place all their own. Now all my sister needs to do is get her driver license and she'll be good to go!
Mom is still having some pretty dark days lately. She misses Dad so much. Little things still set her off -- and that's normal, of course, after a death -- but as much as I know and accept the fact that she has to go through these stages to get to a better place, but I want to absorb every single ounce of her sadness and tuck it away to protect her from it.
***
Timer for the cornbread just went off. Cross your fingers for me, y'all. I'm going to go assess my damages, apologize again to my Granny if needed, eat supper, and snuggle the hubs when he finally gets home.
