The people in this office are hilarious. There's one guy, James P--, who looks like Mr. Toad in "The Wind In The Willows." Except that he looks sad all the time. I privately refer to him as Sad Mr. Toad. He has an excitable temperament, and a voice that's slightly higher-pitched than one would expect from his stature. When he get's excited, the effect is rather like a pig squealing.
I was sitting in my cubicle yesterday (oh, the joy of these receptionist cubicles: you can hear damn near everything that goes on in the office), and I heard Sad Mr. Toad screech, "Are you calling me a liar?" Sometimes the people in this office can get loud when they're joking, and their humor lends itself to mock-arguments all the time. However, when he repeated the question, louder, and followed by slamming the door to his office shut, I realized that he was screaming at someone on the phone. The fact that the door was shut didn't do much to lower the decibel level. We all heard him continue, "No, I'm not relaxed! Do I sound relaxed to you?" There was a pause. "Fuck you! I don't have to take this shit!"
Sad Mr. Toad was having a bad day, and the rest of his co-workers mimicked him mercilessly for the rest of the day whenever he'd contradict one of them.
There's also another guy here who puts me in mind of Ronald Reagan. He has a sort of shellacked look to him. He's about 50+ years old, has black hair, and he wears eyeliner. I don't wear eyeliner. I don't understand why a guy over 50 years old would.
He's really friendly, and he lives alone in an apartment just up the street from the office. I don't know why he isn't married or something, unless he's gay.
I've been busy, again. Rent was due last week-end, and we completely forgot about it. So, last night saw Dirk and I driving up to practice to shove our rent money under the door. We delayed going over there, so we didn't get back to our town until after nine. I'd meant to go home early to do some Tae Bo (climb back on the wagon, so to speak), but it was not to be.
By my guess-timations, C--'s probably gotten the letter by now. Whether or not he'll be moved....eh. I've long since given up hope, but it doesn't stop me from being slightly nervous whenever I access my e-mail account.
Dirk was supposed to go to North Carolina around now....I think he's forgotten. I certainly am not going to remind him. I guess whatever he wanted to see down there just didn't matter that much to him.
Tentative plans have been made with Katie for Friday. I haven't heard back from her, so I wouldn't be surprised to discover that those plans have been aborted. I'm starting to get used to only hanging out with Deb, Jason, and fellow bandmembers. I haven't seen a lot of my friends in months.
That wasn't a plea for sympathy; I was simply stating a fact. I'm busy these days.
You might have noticed that I don't complain about my mother as much these days. That's because we've actually been getting along fairly well. I have noticed that the more empowered I feel, the less anger I feel towards my mother. I think that's what the issue has been all along: power. I can't stand being controlled by her, with all her capricious moods. I can't stand having anything she could take away from me.
The thought that makes me happiest is the thought that she soon won't have any control over me whatsoever.
I actually got a quote from an insurance company for liability for the Skattermobile. $50 a month, not bad for my driving record. However, getting the quote in the mail touched off a whole new set of arguments/recriminations in the Skatter household. My father (who will be hereafter known as Pollyanna), asked me when I was going to get a quote for a new Cavalier. I said that I wasn't certain anymore if I wanted to get a new car. Now, I'd made the mistake of telling him my fears that my mother would have a psychotic episode and take the car away from me just because she was pissed. So, with all the grace of a bull in a china shop, Pollyanna says, "Why? Your mother isn't going to take the car away from you just because she gets mad at you."
My mother was standing right there. Her feelings were hurt, she went to her room to pout, telling me that if I was that worried about it, I could damn well get Dirk to co-sign for a car loan. I walked out to the sound of her yelling at Pollyanna. He was trying to stick up for me, because I'd said to him on my way out that she (meaning my mother) was just plain spiteful. I wish like hell he wouldn't stick up for me. He's not doing me any favors.
