Tuesday, October 04, 2005

 

That's Not A Cat, That's My Baby Sister!


And thus go the days and nights, Chéz Lapin.

Friend of mine got a job, which she sorely needed, only to discover that the service that she thought was going to provide before and after school care for her kids couldn't take them after all.

So here she is, needing to start work on Monday and with three children, the oldest of whom is six.

Guess who took them on?

Let's just say that my days this week have been starting unconscionably early and have been somewhat noisier than usual. And my dog can three five year olds and a six year old EAT.

And eat and eat and eat.

And their voices could cut glass at 40 paces. And never, ever stop.

This, coupled with a serious fiscal meltdown (husband's company, which I will not mention by name because I have learned my lesson -- or at least someone else learned it for me -- has committed major paycheque fuckery) has made for little knitting time and even less blog time, and an awful lot more stress than I think I can handle right now.

Unless the bastages (fargling icehole bastages, at that) come up with some cash today then I am at risk of losing it completely, up to and including exploding things, setting things alight, and perhaps even driving off cliffs.

I'll try not to take too many people with me. Ann, you can have my stuff.

(and for anyone who takes me seriously and starts to panic, get over it, I'm too tough to give up that easily)

Comments:
Even though you are tough, you are also having a pretty crappy bunch of stuff happen lately. No pay is about the most heinous thing an employer can do. I hope it gets sorted fast.
 
Sending you a virtual beer, screech, whatever takes the edge off for a bit. I hope the paycheck gets kicked down pronto, and you get relieved of childcare duty right quick as well.
 
"Unless the bastages (fargling icehole bastages, at that)..."

Careful, with talk like that, they may try to deport you to Sweden, even though you claim you're not from there.
 
For those Gentle Readers who are feeling incredibly jealous of me right now, The Rabbitch and I have a mutual pact: Who(m)ever goes first, the other one gets buried in yarn, books, needles, patterns, magazines (do cats figure in this one?? I wonder). And remember, while TR's stash includes all that green cotton, :my: stash is eyeball deep in charity ACK-rillic.

Truly, though, Rabbitch, the letter you sent should shake the $$ loose and if it doesn't, I know a good hit man who will work for food. . .
 
Let's plan a campaign against their good names...I am sure some crackpot hacker out there would love to spray the Internet with sad little comments about the CEOs private parts....
 
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