Incontinent rodents
The last few days have been full of rodent urine for me and my husband. Neil takes care of the guinea pigs because I'm allergic to them. Just today Elvis peed on him. I take care of the hamsters, and Nobby pees on me as a hobby. Several times a week. I think I have the better deal because hamsters have much smaller bladders.
Have I mentioned that I hate my job? I requested a temporary reduction in work hours, and my boss had, according to policy, 21 days to respond. It's been 23 days. 24 on Monday. So that's one more for the checklist of reasons for filing a grievance when they finally reject my request.
My job is boring. I hate maternity coding. My boss thinks she's a kindergarten teacher. The person "in charge" of maternity has the IQ of a mushroom. I very much need a new job.
I've sent in applications and resumes and stuff all over town. Most of them never even bother replying. I think I'm unemployable. I have a history degree. What can that get me? You'd think maybe one of the dozens of museum jobs I've applied for. But no. I have experience as a software tester and an HTML writer. But it was a couple years ago so it doesn't count. I'm forever branded as "medical paperwork girl". I hate medical paperwork. I hate working with people who are glad to have worked their way up into medical paperwork.
The only good news I have at the moment, other than the comedy of my husband being peed on by Elvis, is that I finally got plane tickets to go back to visit my family in the US. I haven't been in the US in years. I miss Americans. I miss people with morals and being able to afford to eat in a restaurant. I miss root beer. I want to go home. Too bad I don't really have one.
Alana
