formerly a fearless temp

Today eight people came in for a will consultation. Only one person called for an appointment, but she felt the need to bring her entourage of assorted relatives with her. They were so numerous that there weren't enough chairs in the waiting area, which led to a comical few minutes during which I ran to and fro with furniture from other parts of the office. There is no way to look graceful and professional while carrying a chair, there's just not. Once they were seated, I realized one of them had B.O., and I spent the next hour trying to do work while ignoring said stench and being stared at like an exhibit in a museum.

Speaking of! My father's office is on the first floor, and my part of the office is right by the entrance to the building, so whenever people take smoke breaks, they always stand right outside my window. I can hear the murmur of their conversation but not the words, and it's extremely irritating because part of me is always trying to figure out what they're saying (it's just instinct), and also, I feel like I'm on display at the zoo. I should put a title card right next to where they smoke.

Secretaria Bittercus:

This species is known for its excellent typing skills and ability to lie on command. In youth, members of the species begin the day with a sunny outlook and then undergo a daily transformation which leaves them with hunched shoulders, short tempers, and clenched teeth by nightfall. This progression becomes more rapid with age, until finally, a persistent disgruntled temperament is the norm, with occasional pleasant patches. Natural habitat: cubicles with fluorescent lighting.

Ah, I'm just bitter to be so close to people tasting freedom while I wither away, tethered to the dictation machine, with no nicotine addiction to justify regular breaks.

Okay, so some things need to happen tomorrow.

(1) R. NEEDS to cancel our tutoring session, because my current housesitting assignment is about an hour's drive from our tutoring meeting spot, and I really don't want to have to make that drive. I want to sleep and spend the late morning hours reading a romance novel! Is that so much to ask?

(2) I need to work on some additional cover letters, etc., because I feel that my father's office is destroying my spirit a little bit more every day.

(3) The cat needs to not wake me up at 6AM by pawing at my nose, as he did last weekend.

Randomly: Eating wise, I was so good for most of today. I had fruit for breakfast (mostly because I overslept and had to eat portable food), a salad and a handful of Chex Mix for lunch, but then I had to stay over an hour late at work, and found myself at the grocery store, RAVENOUS, getting supplies for the housesitting weekend. I was in such a foul mood from work that I cast aside all of my hard-fought healthy habits of the last few days, and bought brownie mix, Lucky Charms, eight pounds of shredded cheese for quesadillas, and other crap, which was exactly when I ran into one of the professors I housesit for regularly (but not this weekend). I know there's no reason to be embarrassed of my food - it's my life! I can eat what I want! - but when one is (hopefully) at the tail end of a period of expanding waistline brought on by stress, and has been attempting to do better only to suffer a sudden setback, it is frustrating to run into an acquaintance super-devoted to healthy just as one is squatting down to decide which brownie mix to buy. Grr argh frustration.

In other news: My skin has been so heinous lately that I am embarking on experimental treatment. I'm still on oral medication for it (am seeing Dr. on Wed. about this part of the routine), but I am casting aside ProActiv and beginning an Ivory Soap/Neutrogena Moisturizer regimen for the time being. Three days in and my skin feels noticeably better. More details as they develop.

I feel like this post is so vain and superficial. I'll go with it. To wrap it up: I am rapidly going gray (oh, the horror); I keep forgetting to touch up my toenail polish; I have been wearing glasses all the time because I know when I call to reorder contacts, they'll probably make me come in for an eye exam, but I really don't want to; and I have a mustache that resembles Seth Bullock's.

Today I actually went to the store in a gray sweatshirt, blue sweatpants, and black flats from my dressy work outfit of today. The Jess of the Past would have gasped in horror at this. I have also taken to going to work with wet hair, and putting on makeup in the bathroom mirror when I catch a quiet moment in the morning. I ALWAYS SAID I WOULD NEVER BE THIS PERSON. Are all of these symptoms of more generalized self-loathing? Am I just lazy? Why am I not in bed, since I have to get up tomorrow if R. doesn't cancel?

So many questions! So few answers!

My father's legal secretary quit, which means that I get to go in and start working for my Dad after having one (1) blissful day of freedom post-year of teaching. Damn you, fate! Damn you, Tina, who left for greener pastures without giving appropriate notice!

Anyway. The icon I use for this entry gives a pretty good impression of how I spent my one (1) blissful day of freedom, and how I wish I could spend tomorrow, but cannot. Instead, I will be listening to tapes on dictaphone, and fielding calls from irate clients. Oh, joy.

Enough complaining!

Today I watched the second season of Deadwood some more, and while I continue to find it awesome, the dialogue kind of, well, befuddles me sometimes. The bad language I don't mind, though it can be troublesome since immediately after watching the show I find myself saying things like, "Pass me the fucking potato salad," and once last year, when I was indulging myself in the first season, I think I actually called someone a cocksucker.* No, what gets me is how the dialogue, which has been called Shakespearean, is often so convoluted and complicated that it's incomprehensible, even if one has a DVD with subtitle capabilities and a functional rewind button.

You know what they should have? Ooh! This is such a good idea, I seriously should e-mail HBO upon completing this entry. They should have subtitles in Standard English, just like they have subtitles in French, Spanish, etc. Then idiots like myself could actually understand what's going on.

(Also, I think one of the reasons the language gets called Shakespearean is because of the way the writers often swich up the structure of sentences, which is interesting and confusing, but actually reminds me more of Yoda than Shakespeare.)

What else is there to report? Very little! My younger cat jumped into the sliding glass door today - he usually lets us know he wants to come in my by leaping up and hanging from the screen, but someone had forgotten to pull the screen part of the door closed. So he jumped up and THUNKed against the door instead. He was totally fine (cats always land on their feet), and after coming in, we rewarded him with treats, and lots of cuddling, but MAN, was it funny. I'm laughing about it right now.

*Not to their face, of course; I was either retelling an irrtating incident or, more likely, yelling at another driver while on the highway. Still, it shocked me!