The Day So Far

Steph's sister and mom pitched in to get us a couple visits from a maid. We're not neat freaks at the best of times, and the baby has pretty much stonewalled our efforts to keep the house clean.

Two weekends ago, we cleaned the whole goddamn house and it was spotless. Cleanest it's ever been since we moved in. A week and a garage drywalling session later, it's trashed again.

But the maid is there as I type.

She and her husband arrived just as I was getting Kaia dressed. They started in the kitchen, so I had to sort of dodge around them as I gathered up the gear for Kaia's breakfast -- baby spoon, baby bowl, the apple juice and the box of dry oatmeal & bananas.

She scarfed down her oatmeal and then we went to get her coat on and pop her in the car seat. I had both her arms in the coat when she decided it'd be a good time to yack on us. She missed her shirt, but got her coat, her jeans and my pants.

So I had to head back and redress us. I was on pace for a new record for getting to work, too. At least she was in a good mood. She walked all over the house, clapping and squealing. She's such a happy kid, except when she's not.

Speaking of that New Record for Getting to Work...
That would be anytime before 10am. I haven't gotten to work "on time" in probably two years, but it's gotten substantially worse the last six months. Before Steph started her new job, I'd usually roll in about 9:45, but now that I have to take care of the baby, it's usually 10:15 or so.

And here's the deal. I don't care. I just don't give a fuck anymore. Yesterday morning, after a weekend of working my ass off (drywall the garage and doing my movie gig late sunday night), I did not want to go to work. Not the usually, "fuck, it's monday and I'd rather stay home," it was more of "fuck this bullshit. what's the point."

I always get that way when I'm exhausted. I like to think I get more honest, sorta like when you're drunk. I think I think these things all the time, I'm just better at fending off the overwhelming negativity when I'm rested. I can distract myself better.

This isn't unfounded. Yes, I know I'm broken and that my attitude toward these things is self-dictated. But being unfulfilled and bored has less to do with my attitude than reality.

When I found out Steph was getting laid off, I told my boss that if something didn't come up, I'd be looking for a new job that paid better. About a week later, he caught me in my office getting ready to leave for lunch, and wanted me to walk to the parking lot with him so we could chat.

Never once did he offer me anything resembling a raise. Instead, he talked about getting Steph a job on campus. then he hit me with this line...

"Well, don't let me put words in your mouth, but this is pretty much your dream job."

At that moment, I wrote my boss off. He's already screwed me twice on starting salaries. In both cases, I should've just declined the job. Dream job? My dream job pays a fuck of a lot better than this one, dude. I didn't get my Masters degree so I could make what I make now.

Dream job. He has no idea who I am, and doesn't give a shit. So I checked out. Sure, i'm still devoted to putting out a good magazine. My pride won't let me mail it in. But I find myself less and less concerned with hitting any sort of a deadline.

Been looking for jorbs in OKC. There's jack and shit. Sigh.

One of my bosses tells me when we move, I can work from home a couple days a week. That'll change my attitude about the job for sure.

enough of the whining. out.