nagia: (ffxii; basch; viva la revolution)
I don't know whether this is an "FML" moments or an "I love my life" moment. It's sure as hell one of those "I will laugh about this later moments."

Except I'm laughing about it now.

Guys, I just spent ten minutes fighting with a key, a deadbolt, and two leashed dogs determined to drag me all over the neighborhood while I tried to get us in the house.

Once I gave up on the front door, I squeezed myself and them through a broken gate into the back yard. Then I wound up squeezing myself into the garage via dog door.

Yes. That's right. I just entered my own home via dog door.

Even better, it was completely unnecessary. Had I stopped to look at my keyring, I would have seen two nearly-identical keys: one silver, one bronze. The silver key opens the external garage door. The bronze one opens the front door.

So I could quite easily have gotten in through an actual door, rather than the dog flaps, had I stopped to think for more than twenty seconds.

You may now point and laugh.
nagia: (gungrave; grave; enchained in sorrow)
Well, the day is over. I got out of work at four, but I didn't get home until seven and then didn't actually get to sit down until nine.

Today was pretty much the worst day I've had at Receivia since I was working in A/R. Logged back into all my systems after a half-hour lunch (I get an hour M-F), only to discover that the facility had completed an open professional bill for me, then copied it and finished that account's institutional bill as well. The next seven accounts in a row had already been billed and 'closed out' by the facility, despite having just been assigned to us yesterday. Because I'm paranoid and take things personally, and was also the only person billing Columbia today, I had a small attack of "OH MY GOD THIS IS MY FAULT I'M NOT DOING THIS FAST ENOUGH OR WELL ENOUGH AND THEY'RE GOING TO COMPLAIN ON MONDAY."

Broke down and cried at my desk. Then I tried to log into one last system and "flip" bills. Spent forty-five minutes fighting with it to no avail. Cried more. One of the team leads fought with it for another ten, and then told me that facility had pulled all our assigned encounters and flipped them for us, because they're assholes.

Around three, one of my fellow inmates -- the only other person to share my row -- looked up and went, "Katie, you do look like you're about to cry." The look of surprise on her face when I told her I already had, more than once, was almost a bright spot, except then my systems kicked me out.

All told, I had an hour of downtime and didn't make goal. I did get exactly 80% of goal, though, which I guess isn't bad for your first time on a facility. Especially if you're overtired, overstressed, and just generally overworked all to hell.

The news gets even better. Starting Monday, I'm now required to put in fifty-six hours a week. They don't really care how I manage it, I just have to get the hours. Which would be fine, I guess, except I'm supposed to cram two extra days's worth of hours into... one extra day.

There are days I could swear this place is deliberately trying to make me feel stupid and worthless.
nagia: (ffvii; yuffie; best beloved)

So, I had a really fantastic and productive day in every respect but the two I enjoy most: gaming and writing.  I'm in chapter twelve of FFXIII, working on the second Proudclad encounter (which is the devil I swear, Goku Monkey Christ I hate that thing).  I should be grinding my way back toward kicking that evil ridiculous cock-gobbling tin can's ass, but instead I cleaned out my mother's truck, cleaned the bathroom, cleaned the living room, and then settled down and watched Juno with her.

I should have been, if not writing "Catch Me," then deciding on an idea and outlining for Mega Flare, but I have no decision and the sign ups start in three hours.

I believe the technical term for moments like this is, "Shiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit."

nagia: (ffxii; basch; ruin impendent)
This is not my month. As if things weren't bad enough, I cut my left pinkie open tonight. Very, very bad cut. As in “eight stitches“ bad. A hair longer or deeper, and I would have lost the finger. I cut almost all the way around the finger.

As it is, I bled pretty horribly. I mean I soaked through the gauze, the paper barrier, dribbled a lake onto the plastic sub-barrier, and got both the NP's and her student's labcoats. When they finished, my palm was covered in blood.

Oh, and the worst of it? I'm left handed.
nagia: (avatar; the boulder does not approve)
Goddamnit, I don't know what I want to do. I need to go grocery shopping. But I want to be playing FFXIII. Or watching Treasure Planet (or Stardust or 30 Days of Night!)

Or writing Catch Me.

Why can I not clone myself?!

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