Tuesday, April 14, 2009

Of Mice and Tanning

I feel like I could sleep and sleep forever. If I could only take one thing with me for the rest of my life, it would be difficult to choose between a book and my fluffy down comforter. Either way, I can always escape reality by reading or sleeping. Unless of course I had a life-time supply of H and my down comforter, that would be bliss.



So we're not supposed to accept anything that any of the drivers try to give us. I think that's bullshit. So if someone tries to be nice by giving me some rolls or candy or soda, I'm supposed to say 'no thanks'? Yeah, right. It doesn't happen everyday, but every so often. It's generally something that they were going to eat themselves or throw away anyhow. So obviously I do accept whatever I'm offered, and I usually eat it too. This driver just came by and saw me eating Smart food, and asked if I liked popcorn. Obviously, as I am eating it now, I like it. So he gives me this very phallic looking popcorn thing. I can't help smirking as I reach for it. I thank him profusely as it always makes guys happy when they think you're happy because of something they did. It makes my job so much easier if I just flatter and flirt a bit. But I wonder where they get some of this stuff, what stores sell these things? So this thing is called a Caramel Cob. Seriously, I wish I had a camera. I'll try to describe it - obviously it is in the shape of an ear of corn, and it's in a plastic sleeve with green husks decorating the bottom to mimic an actual ear of corn. It then has a 'smack & snack' logo, instructing the 'fun way to open!' by pushing the top of cob through wrapper by smacking bottom of cob upward(I tried it, it worked)! I swear I'm not making this up. And you know what? It's actually quite good and caramelly chewy too.

I am so pale. I stood outside today and took off my shoes and rolled up my pants as I watched the dogs run around. I made the mistake of looking down at my white legs and they looked so white they appeared to be glowing almost translucent against the grass. I'm not used to being so pale. I've always worked on farms up until recently. That being what it is, I'd always have a tan by the end of April from standing in the sun all day. Super pale does not suit me at all - but neither does time-consuming natural tanning for tanning's sake. If I'm doing an outdoor activity, even if I can read outside, great. But I can't just sit there soaking up the sun, I get too hot and too bored (I hate the word bored actually. It's false anyway. I'm never so much bored as I am sick and tired and scared of my own thoughts). And tanning in a salon is not something I ever really took to. I am not good about going enough times in a row to get tan, so it seems like a waste of time and money. Although maybe I should keep trying since I'm all set with farm jobs and I have little time and less money for outdoor leisure activities. At least now I have a yard I can lounge in. And I can pretend I'm being productive sitting out there watching the dogs. Dogs need to go out, don't they?

The girl who works the shack opposite me at work at nights also happens to live in the same apartment building as me. She lives upstairs and so the logic is that she gets an indoor parking space in one of the garages on the property. At first Mike was all pissed that he didn't get an indoor spot. Well, thank God. Because turns out Laura has mice attacking her car from the nests they have built in the engine compartment. Sucks, right? They are messing with the wiring causing radio shorts. Luckily they didn't cause a fire from the stuff they hauled in there for nests. They stuffed leaves and cigarette buts in crevices. That would have been wicked fucked up if that happened to our car. Not that it's great for her, but it's not me. Is that awful to say, am I jinxing myself?

Yippee!!! Only an hour left to go for the night! Every other Wednesday I get to go home at one. That's a six hour shift as opposed to twelve. Most weeks I work forty-eight hour weeks, not by choice might I add. I'd rather work less and make less, actually, I'd rather work less and make more, much more. Maybe some day. For now, Goodnight. I am going to go mill about to pass the minutes, sweep the floor, finish up paperwork, smoke a onie in the shadows. Until next time.

Nellie

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