If I Say The Word, You're It

Random Fact 14: When I feel content or semi-sad, I light all the candles I can find, relax either on my couch or bed, and read. It helps.

It's been an interesting 4 days.
Sunday started off normal. I closed at work Sunday, so I slept in a little, got ready, and headed out. Work turned out to be pretty crappy. We were really busy, which is normally a good thing because it makes the day go by faster. Unfortunately, the majority of the customers that day were rude, obnoxious, and down right hard to work with. The makes even a busy day slow down.
Once all the complaining and time wasting was done, I decided to go pick up my cat. Harley normally lives with my Dad, but since he's on vacation, I thought I'd bring him to my apartment and cat sit. That was my first mistake.
If you have ever met my cat you'll understand what it takes to cat sit him. If you have not, let me fill you in. When Harley was a kitten, I chose him because he was the runt. He was small, blind in his left eye, and skinny. I knew that if we didn't take him home, he would be put to sleep. I couldn't stand to think of that, so he was ours. Everything went fine and well until he started to get mean. And I don't mean playful mean. I mean MEAN. He would (and still does) rub up against your leg and hands for attention, and when you try to pet him, he bites you.
Anyway, I picked him up, loaded everything into the car, and headed home. I should have known things would go bad. On the way to the apartment, Harley peed all over the backseat of my car. Not too awesome.
He calmed down after that (figures) and I was able to get him out of the car and up the stairs. When I opened the apartment door and Harley saw Rex, he went crazy. He started hissing and swatting and biting. The biting is my main problem because he bit me. Hard. Hard enough to leave 2 sets of puncture wounds big enough to see into and a serious infection. Again, not awesome.
I dealt with it that night and into the morning, but as I was getting ready to leave to shop with Angelica and Stefani, I notice something coming out of the bite marks. It was sort of greeny brown and thick. The other bite mark had turned black around the edges. I started to panic. Harley hasn't had any kind of shots since 2006-ish.
I called my doctor's office and spoke with the head of nursing, who said I had better come in and get the bites looked at. The doctor examined my hand and didn't like what he saw. He decided to admit me to the hospital directly from his office to administer IV antibiotics.
Apparently, when someone is bit on the hand or face, normal oral antibiotics aren't as effective and may not even treat the area. Doctors recommend IV medication 9 times out of 10. I'm in that statistic.
My mom and I went to Rush-Copley and I was taken care of right away. The IV took some time though. My right arm wasn't cooperating. Neither was my right hand. Eventually the nurses moved over and got the IV into my left arm. It was really uncomfortable considering the bite is on my left hand. It was like my whole arm was immobilized. And to make things worse, the infection from the bite was "a deep, near tissue infection" requiring not one night in the hospital, but two.

After two days of laying around with a needle in my arm, a bite in my hand, and only a few hours of sleep at a time, I was released. My hand is still pretty sore and swollen, and the bite marks are still pronounced, but it's nice to be home. Well, nice until I saw my cat.
I couldn't help myself. Once I saw him I started crying and apologizing. Because of this whole mess, my dad, sister, and mom want to put Harley to sleep. They all think he's becoming too wild. They think he's less like a house cat and more like a wild animal. I don't know what to think or do.
This all feels like my fault. If I would have left him alone and just gone to my dad's to feed him and change the water none of this would have happened. It's my fault he's going to die. It's my fault he's going to be all alone and dead.
I tried to love him and change him by bringing him here and only made things worse. I feel awful. I'm the reason he's going to die.
He's going to die.
I'm so sorry, Harley. I know you can't understand me, but I'm so sorry. I tried everything to be nice and loving but it all backfired. I promise not to leave you alone and I promise it won't hurt. I'm sorry.

You're Welcome

Random Fact 13: I pick the title of my blogs from things I hear while typing them. They don't really mean anything.

I'll warn everyone now: This is pretty much a rant blog about Lowes and working in customer service. I'm getting pretty sick of all the customers who wonder in and treat the employees like they own them or they don't matter. Fuck you. Here are some examples from the best customer hater ever.

The next customer that comes up to me with an item that doesn't have a barcode and says, "I think it was $7.99 or something like that," will get slapped. Do you know how many things in this store are $7.99? Do you think I can REALLY just type $7.99 into my register and make that item magically appear on my screen and on your receipt? It doesn't work that way ass-hat. Next time, just check the freakin' item for a barcod and don't hold up my damn line.
Or the customer that sets the money one the counter instead of in my hand. Is there something wrong with my hand? Does it really take that much effort to put a piece of paper in my already open hand? Didn't think so. I'm just going to stare at the next fucker that pulls that with my hand out. You want me to ring up that $.23 in change? Then don't put it on the fucking counter.If you do, be ready to have me drop every penny on the ground so you get to feel how disrespectful it is.
Jerk ass number 3. The person that brings up an item and argues with me about the price because they read the wrong tag on the shelf. It is not my fault you cannot read. Don't yell at me for something could have fixed by paying more attention. And don't think that by yelling at me the price will change. It doesn't, so fuck off.
Another GREAT customer is the one that has one bag of stuff - usually something small and light like screws or light bulbs - and feels they need to take the cart out of the store. How fucking lazy. I realize it is someone's job in our store to go get those carts, but think about it. They have to go out in all kinds of weather, whether it be 100 degrees or -20. You wouldn't want to do that for someone who only bought light bulbs would you? Didn't think so.
And for the love of God leave your children at home. When they run around the store and knock shit over, we have to deal with it. Not you. And when they cry and fight and scream in our check out line, I know I'm not the only one that wishes you would get hit my a Mack truck. The rest of the customers in line are thinking the same thing. Do us all a fever and tie your tubes right now so we don't have to endure any more of your whining offspring.
GET OFF YOU FUCKING PHONE AT THE CHECKOUT. That about sums that one up.

That covers must of the customers that come into the store. The customers that call can be even worse.
If you decide to call our store to find out if something is in stock, you better have the item or model number ready to go because we are not your personal shoppers. My goal in life is not to hunt down that particular ceiling fan you've always wanted. It's not even my fucking job. Get off your ass and come look for that stuff on your own. If it's REALLY the thing you desperately need you're going to want to buy it, and you need to do that IN THE STORE.
Another caller that needs to be held down and beaten is the one who calls to check on an order and gets angry with me, a cashier, because their items aren't in yet. Let me repeat that I am only a cashier. I am not a manufacturer. I am not a vendor. I am not the person that drives the truck that the merchandise comes in on. I have no control what so ever on when your item gets to you or to our store. For fuck's sake, what do these people expect?!

So I hope this helps you, dear readers. Avoid all of these things at any store where a cashier/customer service associate is the one helping you, because you never know when we'll snap, and you do not want to be that guy.

In other news, I love you, Shaun.

We're All A Little Tired

Random Fact 12: I have always been afraid of being the smelly kid. I was always the fat kid, so adding smelly to that could only make me hate myself more. Ha. Since I was little I've always taken extreme measures to not smell. Let's be honest; I still do. I shower every day. No exceptions. Once that's done, I dry off and put on deodorant and perfume. I spray a little more perfume once I have a shirt on, too. If it's a cool day or I still feel unsure about my smell, I put product in my hair that smells good. I'm a little obsessed I guess.

Shaun and I went shopping last night. It was a complete success! I feel like this is the first time we've actually shopped and gotten everything we needed. Lots of fruit, some microwave lunches, and stuff to make the apartment smell good. It was also very very nice to spend some more time with Shaun. Even though we live together, we don't get to see each other much. When I'm awake, I'm working and he's asleep. When he's awake, I'm either still at work or sleeping. Our schedules don't mesh very well. And it makes it a little lonely at times.
So thank God for Sex and the City nights! Angelica, Stefi and I have started getting together and rewatching Sex and the City one season at a time. It's so great to catch up with them and gossip. And occasionally tare apart the show. But in a good way.

I feel a little more like myself every day. Thank goodness.

This Is A Joke, Right?

Random Fact 11. I sort of miss the old me.

I feel a little sad/morbid right now, so I apologize ahead of time for this blog. Feel free to skip it.
I've been sick for almost 2 weeks now. I hate it. I'm all flemmy and uncomfortable, and this cough is driving me crazy. I coughed so hard today that I threw up on my mom's carpet. My ribs are killing me and I keep getting pressure headaches that make me want to crawl up in a ball and sleep.
On my way home from work today my ribs were really hurting and my hypochondriac side took over. I did the "wouldn't it suck if I was bleeding internally and I died?" thing. But then I really started thinking. What would happen if I died soon? What would the people I love go through?
Shaun would be destroyed I think. I know I would be if he died. I imagined him going around our apartment, crying, remembering everything we did together in all the things we have. Lydia would be destroyed, too. I think my parents and grandparents would be the worst.
And I'm being depressing.

I guess on the bright side, I'm officially a Lewis University student. My classes are all set but I'm a little worried. I sort of took on 18 credit hours on accident. 18 credit hours plus a full time job may be a little more than I can handle, but I guess only time will tell. I'm really excited to get more involved with school and people this time. I want friends and a life, please!

Maybe beach Friday.