Archives for posts with tag: work

There’s a show I watch, one that I love, but that Fitty cannot stand. It’s produced and filmed in Canada, and it’s all about a series of home-owners choosing whether to stay in their unsuitable “bought it on a whim 10 years ago” homes, and have a Designer renovate their house to suit their current lifestyle or at the same time, a competing Realtor shows the family homes that suit them right now – no reno required.

The key here is the renovation – sometimes the Designer does such a good job the home-owners fall in love with their old home all over again and choose to “love it” rather than “list it”.

There’s a list of must-haves for both the renovation and for the new home. The show follows the same plot line each episode. *Gasp* the budget is too small for the list! *Gulp* the new home is out of the preferred area!

The other shit thing about the show is the simulated hatred and competition between the Realtor and the Designer, but I deal because I love the home transformations. Fitty can’t deal with any of it, but will sit beside me and watch it seething and making irritating comments the whole time.

Anyway, this show has got me thinking…what if there was a show….

“Love It or List It – My Life”

Must-haves to stay in my life:

  • A Nice Boss:  Having lived with Fitty for 10 years, I’d say shock was an understatement of the feeling I had when I finally met the man who inhabits his body 9 – 5. Brat, Dick-face, Prince of Darkness – a few names that would suit his work persona nicely.
  • A smaller ass: One of the secret symptoms of giving up smoking is that your ass enlarges. (If you add in the menopausal stomach augmentation commonly experienced by women in my age group), you soon find you can no longer fit into your clothing! It would be nice to have the ass I had prior to giving up smoking. It’s not like I’m doing anything *stuffs chocolate slice in mouth* to cause the expansion of my middle region, *eats bowl of peanuts*  I just can’t understand the weight gain at all? *inhales bag of chips*
  • A sister-wife: I do  try to keep the house clean, it’s just that by the time I’ve endured a 40 hour work week with Fitty, the last thing I want to do all weekend is hang around the house (with him) doing the housework! I’d much prefer to visit friends/family/woodland animals, or go to the movies with Magoo. A sister-wife would be a friend and a handy helper at home. I see her washing, cooking, cleaning, and playing with my hair!

Must-haves to buy new life:

  • A Palace of Gleaming Surfaces: Plus a family with put-away skills that would blow your mind! Nobody would leave anything anywhere and everyone would shit bubblegum scented rainbows. I tire of the routine scolding and teaching of people who are too old to still be learning how to put things away and look after their own stuff.
  • A 10 Hour Work Week:  I love my job, but I reckon if I cut away all the bullshit hours I spend tidying up after the toddler (Fitty), arguing that I am in fact RIGHT and giggling over stupid shit, I could do the work I need to get done in a couple of hours a day. Then I could get back to the important aspects of my menopause healing like retail therapy and remedial sleep treatment.
  • Total Remote Control: No more News Marathons, no more four straight hours of science, or watching the dude from Ancient Aliens justifying his research grant. No more Mythbusters, Air Crash Investigation or random world current affairs. No more “Ways to Hate Donald Trump” on CNN! A little of the above is fine, but you can’t constantly watch serious. It kills your soul.


Related Fun – Because he was initially terrified I would actually sign my work emails “Boomshanka”, or tell jokes to the clients, Fitty used to make me read emails to him before I sent them. (Okay, yes I may have definitely created this problem for myself by repeatedly threatening to punk the clients and by always whispering “Boomshanka” at the end of his dictated emails.)

One day at work, I was reading an email to Fitty, (As I read the words ‘new home’ Fitty the Satanic Boss shrieks, “This isn’t some flowery Canadian Reno show ya know, this is a Business!  Call. It. A. Dwelling!” God help us if some non robot-like humanity sneaks into our work correspondence!

I laughed so hard I nearly peed my pants. He can be such a funny fucker at work, but most of the time I just want to staple his lips together with the industrial stapler…


















“You haven’t posted in 14 days…..” Thanks Facebook! For reminding me that I have nothing to say. I’m kind of…


Writer’s block? Life block? Menopause…? Nicotine withdrawal? Or am I simply running out of things to say? I’m a little concerned really… I mean, what if I never write again? I’m forcing myself to put together this post – just write – to stay in the loop until I get my mojo back.

One of the things stopping me at the moment is the mundane nature of life right now. I’ve mentioned it before, but honestly, I’m struggling with the amount of time I’m surrounded by Fitty!

Giving up smoking has not helped at all. I’m cranky as fuck, even with the nicotine patches that Fitty is way too delicate to wear. (Hey they itch the hell outta my skin too, and I have ugly red patches where they’ve been, but anything to stop the murderous impulses – right?) Pussy!

It helps that we started with a very healthy and happy relationship I guess, but the sheer amount of time we spend together is wearing us down, slowly but surely.

Fitty is a Virgo, and as such is perfect.

There is nothing wrong with the way he behaves, EVER.

I’m the kind of person who will argue until I’m blue in the face if I think I’m right, but I am prepared to admit when I’m wrong. (The grey area here of course is when I think I’m right, but I’m actually wrong.)

With Fitty there is no wrong. He’s either right – or you’re a fuckhead.

I’ve learned to cope with that over the years, but I tell ya, being with him 24/7 is not helping much anymore.

He actually FIRED ME the other week! I could barely contain my excitement…

We had an argument at work over a computer program. I knew I was right, but he kept saying things like “who’s the I.T. expert around here, huh?”

“Well you’re fucking DOING IT WRONG my love.” *smirks*

I cannot tell you how happy it made me when it turned out he was wrong. I made Fitty eat it for a number of hours, in fact he was still eating it at 8 am the following morning, as I strolled around at home in my nightie talking about the many joys of being unemployed…

Nicotine withdrawal is a bitch, but so am I!

I made him suffer, and he had to repeat: “Please come back to work for me even though I am the most unreasonable asshole boss ever?”

We accept that there are going to be times when the stapler looks like a weapon, when it’s a good idea to move the scissors into another room. But there’s also time for closing the copy-room door and indulging in passionate kisses! Times when a client makes you both crazy and you can indulge in name-calling and fun-making together until the stress abates. Times when you run down the stairs and out of the office giggling together and holding hands.

As long as there is balance between the good, bad and downright ugly, I guess we’ll live. We have learned to respect new things about each other. I know for a fact he is surprised at how much I’m loving the work I’m doing, and how well I’ve taken to it.

I know that I never thought about how talented he is at his job. Dude’s a genius, as I’ve said many times, but I have a new respect for the way he works under pressure, and the intricate problems he solves!

FIL’s been away, (cruising around Malaysia with MIL), and ever since he left, Fitty and I have been swamped with new jobs, and old ones demanding to be finished. I’d have to say we’ve made a pretty good team while he’s been away. Even if sometimes communication breaks down to this:


Talk to the hand Fitty!


*I’ve also changed my colour scheme slightly in recognition of my cycle (for unknown reasons) reinstating itself as a regular bitch again! How dare she, after months of promising to stop altogether? My uterus is an utter COW!

Many years ago in a math class, I told my teacher the following statement during a lesson on Pythagoras, “I will not need Pythagoras, (or his Theory), in order to fold nappies!”

This – at the end of a long argument between he and I about whether or not I really needed to learn mathematics. I’d have to say that my obnoxious comment was spur of the moment. I was willing to say anything to get out of learning maths.

At that point in my life, I could make change from a note, do basic maths fairly quickly in my head and had no desire to learn the relationship between letter’s and number’s in algebra, (or formulas for working out the area of a triangle.)

To this day I have no clue about algebra? (I once tried to do some very basic algebra homework for 5 and I got every single sum wrong.) I wasn’t surprised at all – I just don’t get why the alphabet had to get all up in maths’ face in the first place?

I did need some mathematics in my life in order to bring home money, but it was the kind of math I was already good at, so for years I convinced myself that I was right, (Mick Green – math’s teacher to the clueless – could eat my shorts!)

I have no ambitions to be clever beyond stringing words together in a fashion which promotes people to want to read them.

I never have had any real career aspirations, just a desire to  earn enough money to eat, wear clothing and occasionally get legless drunk….

Don’t think I wasn’t interested in learning, my intolerance belonged only to maths. I was a very keen history and English student, and science was fascinating for many reasons – I’m still hooked on reading, learning, taking in facts.

So – now you have a credible history of my feeling’s toward anything remotely hard to do with numeracy, you can completely commiserate with me about the following….

Work is Hard.

I’ve had to use my brain in my previous jobs a few times over the years, (not much.) Getting people pissed is not rocket science – mostly I pulled beers and processed sports and racing bets through a machine that did all the hard work for me. I spent time working with Poker Machine’s and paying people a tiny percentage of their money back. (Maths, see?)

I work efficiently and very quickly. Like someone on crack – which works behind a busy bar, but doesn’t translate to the office environment.

I haven’t worked in an office since I was pregnant with 3, back when we did everything on paper/ in ledgers/ on typewriters. I have just started working in a 2015 office…

I am like a dolphin in a sandpit.

There’s that, and then there’s the nature of the business – Building Design is what “they” do.”They” being Fitty and his father, (let’s call him FIL, as we do here in blog-land when referring to our father’s-in-law.)

When I agreed to “help out at the office”, I thought along these lines; filing, data entry, emails, answering phones, being friendly to the clients, being cheerful, cleaning up, wandering around the street “getting the mail” etc. (I find it hilarious every day when I go to the Post Office to get the mail and see all the other office-bots!)

When I first started “work”, I sat beside Fitty learning how he does what he does. I cleaned the office areas I could get to, made cups of *gender stereo-fucking-typical* coffee, ate cake and made numerous funny references about Fitty and I working together, (which cracked us both up.) Fitty is Satan at work, but those first few days were pretty smooth nonetheless.

Week two saw me sitting at FIL’s desk learning about what he does...

Now in the ten years Fitty and I have been an actual “thing”, I have enjoyed FIL’s company – we share a love of bottles.

Bottles with wine in them.

We have polite conversations about the children, Fitty, the house renovations etc. Not once have I let on that I am Stephen Hawking level intelligent! In fact, FIL once jokingly called me out on incompetently made toast at a family breakfast!

I cannot fathom the amount of confidence he has in me to even ask me to do some of the things he expects me to do in his office?

FIL stands there speaking to me like this: “Can you get the <insert acronym for yet another form/standard/requirement>” that I don’t yet understand, so speaking in capital letters is not really helpful?

I’m just standing there like ——-? Wot?

But I go, and I get the forms, and I pretend to fill them out, and then I ask him to check them, and lo and behold?  I get a bit wrong, because I am not a building designer with a college education who has been doing this since Jesus was a baby!!

His expectations are like, high!

My anxiety is flourishing in this environment.

Fitty thinks it’s funny, because he has been dealing with wavering level’s of my anxiety since the beginning of time our friendship 30 years ago, but let’s just ask my sick to the stomach, non-stop hot flushing, sweaty-panicky-heart-racing body if it’s funny Fitty?

“You’re doing great!”

Nope. I’m not. I’m holding my head above water. I’m learning on my own curve, which is not even close to the curve Fitty and FIL can achieve or expect, but it’s a start. Ya know?

“I know what I’m doing! It feels awesome!”

Some days I feel like that – then FIL asks me to establish things like – area, lot size, dimension’s, square root’s, finding the scale, figuring out the directions/slope/lay of the land – that’s MATHS!

Fucking hell people!! It’s like every time I identify or admit a weakness, Fitty will lure me into a situation where I have to step up and face it, or humiliate myself.

I hates him right now. (But only at the office), as evidenced the other afternoon where the process of walking out of the office door together changed our dialogue from “fuck I hate you“, sticking his foot out at the bottom of the stairs threatening to trip me – to us both bursting into loud laughter as we passed into the afternoon sunshine on our way home where we immediately fell into giggling and cuddles on the bed!

I don’t know how I’m able to put up with his stress-driven snappiness at work, but so far I just imagine smacking him and it’s working. I have not yet accepted the fact that me being gullible enough to “help out at the office” has resulted in a full time 9 – 5  actual “Job”.

Cool for me huh?

Fitty thinks I should end this blog with something hopeful like, “one day this dolphin will cease to feel like it’s flopping around in a pit of sand and fly gracefully through the waters”, but I snorted and said it would be more realistic to end it like this:

One day I might cease to feel like a dolphin in a sandpit and instead feel like a slightly overweight walrus flopping onto a rock saying with an exhausted sigh… “made it!”


Nathan Edwards / Newspix via Rex USA






I was chatting to Other Mother this morning on Facebook Messenger, and the subject of work came up.  I revealed to O.M. that I felt I was Not Safe For Work anymore. I was always too stressed. Too angry, too tired all the time. I had no extra energy.

I could never sleep. I would sit up all hours of the night, and struggle in the mornings. I rushed everywhere. Everything was hurried, and disorganised.

Weekends felt ruined when I had to start a shift at on a Saturday or Sunday afternoon. Working nights, and days on a rotating roster often left me finishing work at 12am, to start work again the following morning at 8.00am. With so many kids in the house every other week, it was insane just trying to keep up the washing!

So I resigned. After the worst year of health I’ve ever experienced, struggling through surgery and recoveries, all the while struggling at work.  I finally Put Myself First.

Behind the scenes, Peri-Menopause had already begun to wreak havoc.

I was emotional, and would cry during the “The Ode” at work each night. We had a Soldier (2), over in Afghanistan at the time, and each time I heard that line, “They shall not grow old”, I would hold my breath, tears streaming down my face in the dark.

I was resentful.

Piles of dishes, clothes, dirty bedrooms and bathrooms. Why can nobody else in this house clean a toilet?

I would return home from work at night to Fitty idling in neutral, waiting to see which “gear” I required of him. Would I be in tears of pain? Would I be cranky and tired, grumbling about how they had “all night to wash the dishes”?

I resented everyone. Cars on the road were just ‘blocking my way’. Other shoppers were ‘ignorantly slow’. The kids and Fitty alternately brought me comfort and joy, or immense frustration and exasperation.

I had pain killers, and would only use them sparingly, as they were serious drugs. Ones the doctor has to ask nicely for from the Government. This left me struggling through the “gaps” in my pain-relief awkwardly. Pain would suddenly come upon me at work, after hours of standing on my feet, and it was almost impossible to relieve that pain at work. I needed a bath, and quiet space until the medication stepped up again. I was doing it all wrong.

I’m pretty sure my work friends who read the blog will identify strongly with what I’m saying here. I must have been incredibly hard to work with at times.

So, how have things changed?

Instead of shouting from bed at 9.00am Saturdays for everybody to “Shutthafuckup!”, I’m up every single day by 6.00am. Smiling, happy, with the kids lunches made on weekdays.

I rarely leave my house. I only go out when I really need to, barely ever for social reasons. If I do drop in on T, or meet up for lunch with friends, I try to do at least one other errand while I’m out. Efficiency and Economy are my new middle names.

I drive slowly now, never in a hurry. In fact I don’t think I’ve been in a proper “hurry” since I finished work! I’m cruisin. Usta be a road-rager, now I create it!

I used to shop on the way home from work, buying useless items spontaneously. Now I have a list, and know what I need. I have time to make sure I don’t waste food. I can plan meals, and we actually eat a lot better, healthier and far more economically.

I have time to bake. Saying “I love you” to a child by baking a warm batch of cookies for them when they get home from school. I love baking. When I’m happy, I bake.

It’s taking me time, (as I am a procrastinator of the highest order), but I am slowly re-decorating our house, and will be renovating bathrooms, the kitchen and helping Fitty build new stairs in future months. I’m excited by the work I do now.

I’ve systematically gone through every cupboard in the house making space, getting rid of junk and creating space for new junk to live.

My relationships have changed.

I’m going to be achingly honest here….

One of the most significant changes I’ve made is just being fucking quiet.

It’s a subtle thing as much as it is obvious. I no longer have to be the one talking. I listen more. I hesitate before I offer my opinion. I walk away from things I used to nag about.

All because I have spent so many hours here in this beautiful, tranquil spot, just soaking up the “relax”.

This is my medicine. This home, this family, are my healing.

This lake brings me peace.

This lake brings me peace.

I’ve called a time- out. Woke up so many times through the night, I feel like a cuckoo clock chiming the hour, “ohhh” instead of “cuckoo”! I have been trying to have a 5-7 day break when one course of antibiotics runs out, just to give my body a chance to catch up with itself a little. I could be doing more harm than good I suppose, and considering the amount of research I have done into diet and other issues recently, I really should have done some research on having a break before just making that decision.

The infection got out of control this time during my break period and I’m suffering a little now waiting for it to respond to the medication once more. Usually takes about a week to start feeling a lot better. Also I don’t think my dietary slip on the weekend is helping much. I have been woken by stomach cramps and some different, odd pains, every night this week.

Oh well, what can you do? My theory generally is, “If you can walk, you can work!” Today, that’s not working so well for me. I called in sick. I have taken twice the usual amount of pain killers today and am still pushing it uphill to keep on top of the pain. I can’t actually live in the bath, but it helps to soothe and relax me, making the pain a little easier to deal with. So off to the bath I will go.

I’ll have a time out day, and see if a bit of rest and relaxation, perhaps a gentle walk with Pooh the dog later on, (and some cuddles with her), will help me get over the hump.

Heard from my surgeon that the big guru smart guy surgeon in Sydney will see me next Thursday, so Fitty and I are beginning to make plans as to how we will make the journey. We’ll probably be able to stop in at 4’s for the night on the way, which will be lovely, and also will break up the trip a bit for us. Traveling is not much fun for me at the moment. We’ll also stop in Sydney for a night and make our way home again Friday. Lucky for my work, this will all happen on my rostered days off. I hate taking time off and literally have to be forced into calling in sick by Fitty. He thinks I’m a bit of a workaholic? He thinks I should take more time to look after myself and forget about work. Work thinks the same way as Fitty, so I guess I’m just feeling guilty for no reason at all?

We also have the big Wedding coming up and need to make sure everybody is organized for that. I don’t know how we’re going to pull it all off, actually, if I don’t start feeling better soon, it’s going to be a bit hard. I’m dreadfully scared that the Guru will want to do the surgery the week before the Wedding or something like that. That it will be the only time he can do it, and I’ll have no choice but to do it then.

I have learned that whatever will be will be in life, and there’s really no point fighting against it. As long as I am present at the Wedding I guess that’s all that matters. And if I’m off my face on pain killers, should make for some funny stories later at least?

Well, having had a very busy 5 days off, traveling to Canberra, having the MRI, (talking to stupid people on the phone), getting school organized and getting the house work half done, I can now safely go back to work for another 7 straight days.

I’m sure one of these days I’m going to win Lotto! I just have to remember to buy a ticket? Wouldn’t that be a nice way to live life? Not ever having to worry about working again. Fitty and I could forget the renovations and just knock the lake-shack down and start again. For those of you who think this may be a wasteful thing to do, you haven’t seen the lake shack. Anyone who has, would agree with me. Except maybe Fitty, but that would just be because he hates change (and agreeing with me!)

Today I will be sharing the workload with B! B is the worlds most sarcastic young man, and we have loads of fun together. He has helped me to understand my co-workers better, by making hilarious statements about their lack of work drive and abilities. (I know it sounds terrible, but you should try working with some of these goons?) Hopefully we’ll have my work bestie there and “Rocket-Rod”. That would be the ideal combination for me. Means I can get on with my own job! If not, B and I will spend the day running back and forth making funny comments to each other. It may not sound like a lot of fun, but believe me, it really helps to have the pressure taken off, just by having that other Tab operator on.

Time is (as usual) slipping through my fingers, and I have a million little jobs to do before I go and open the Tab. Feed little Pooh, pack a salad and some munch-ables for the day, wash and blow-dry my hair and race out the door. Can’t wait to get home again around 5 and see what Fitty has in store for the evening? Maybe we can go out for dinner?

I don’t know about you, but I have always wondered where men get the idea that they are more entitled than women. The guys I work with are mostly great. I very much enjoy their company, and many of them have fine senses of humour and good work ethics. The rest of them would have a hard time doing anything, if there was an able bodied female to do it for them. The ratio of men to women is about 7 to 1, so whenever I get to work with another woman I am happy. Happy because I know I won’t be doing a majority of the running around. I don’t know why we (women) worked so hard for equality, when we are still basically in the same boat at work as our mother’s were! At home we have a choice, we can make our marriages work the way we want, if we choose wisely enough. When we get to work however, there is a whole (usually) male hierarchy in place and woe betide the female who tries to have a fair go!

I think a lot of my work problems stem from the fact that a majority of the men I work with are over or nearing 50. This is great in terms of getting along and being able to identify with each other generationally, (did I make this word up?), however I think a lot of them go home to the couch and a hot dinner. There are of course exceptions. My work bestie is a great man, who I can count on to share in the work load. He never disappears on me, and is always doing something. It’s not often you see him standing around. Another male friend of mine is the same. We pitch in and do it all together. A few of the younger ones work well while we are very busy, and then slack right off. As soon as there are only a few customers at the bar at one time, they disappear into the back room, checking their mobile phone facebook accounts! They aren’t even supposed to have a phone at work!

Unfortunately this goes for the younger girls as well. It’s a joke the way some young people approach work. Their attitude is to come in and stand about until they want to leave to do something fun. They nag like crazy to get let off work early, or invent injuries or illness and go “home”. They are then spotted at all hours down at the local pub.

One thing I find particularly hard to deal is when someone is given authority, say a supervisors position, for no reason that any one of us can understand. This is the person who never seems to do anything much, bitches behind everyone’s back, doesn’t seem to have any reason other to be at work than to stand around earning money, deserts the job when it gets busy and is never to be found when actually needed. I often wonder if I was to behave in this fashion, how long my job would last, ah but I’m FEMALE!

I had a rotten night with a person just like this last night. Having a job with two responsibilities you would think that people would respect the fact that you were very busy in your predominant position? Not so with this ape. I was expected to be both in the tab and behind the bar at the same time, while others ignored customers in favour of cleaning, or just standing out the back talking. You would think someone in a supervisors position would do a bit better than that wouldn’t you?

I read recently that some mad scientist was trying to find a woman who was prepared to surrogate “Neanderthal Man”. He’d decided that he could genetically recreate the species and bring it to life. I couldn’t decide whether this was a joke news item or not, one thing I was sure of however, was that Neanderthal Man was alive and living right there at my work!

I have a wonderful partner, who treats me as an equal, we make decisions together, we clean and cook and work together in the family home. Fitty and I like to think we are setting a good example for our sons and daughters. I particularly try to ensure my sons are prepared to go into their adult lives with the idea that love and partnership/marriage is a fair exchange, and not a deal where they get to go to work, then come home and be waited on. If all parents were conscious of the fact that the children we are raising are the workers of the future perhaps life would become a whole lot easier for everyone.

I’ve had my rant, what is your experience? Are you treated like a second class citizen at your work place?

Worked my first night shift last night, thinking that a Thursday night would be nice and easy on me. I’m already a bit stiff and sore in the muscles from all the moving around at work this week! Last night wasn’t too busy, but it was one of those nights that had me constantly on the go, back and forth. My poor body is really feeling the strain after all those weeks of rest. Of course I didn’t get home until after 11.30pm so sleep wasn’t on the agenda until well after 1.00am. Some of us hospitality workers have a hard time winding down after a shift. I find it especially hard as I do a lot of balancing cash and paperwork at the end of my shift, which leaves my brain switched on for ages. I am so jealous of those people who can finish work and go straight to sleep…

Lucky Magoo rang me this morning, or I’d still be snoozing away. Still not winning with the medication, doesn’t seem to matter when I take it, I still have to pull myself out of a deep sleep every morning. My head feels stuffed with cotton wool for the first few hours after waking. I’m going to the doctor today to discuss alternatives as I can’t cope with it anymore, I feel tired and groggy 50% of the day. Not good enough with my demanding job and busy family life. Everyone is going back to school next week, and there is a lot to do!!

This has been one of the most frustrating times of my life. I feel so good at the moment, due to the dietary changes we have made here at home, but at the same time, my body is in a constant state of infection, being masked by antibiotics. As soon as I am off the antibiotics, I start to slip back into the unwell category again. I’m starting to wonder when this is all going to end! At least my body is now healthy. The diet really has made a difference to the level of pain and inflammation I experience, but unfortunately it can’t take the place of surgical/medical care. If I’m lucky, the MRI I’m having soon will show up the problem, it can be dealt with, and I’ll be on my way to complete recovery. I cannot stay on antibiotics for ever.

On a happier note, planning a visit with T today and her gorgeous babes. She is home and settling in well, I have been leaving her alone a bit whilst I started back to work, and I feel a visit is long overdue. She sounds very happy on the phone and little C is full of energy, keeping Mum busy. She is a very generous little girl and I think she’ll be a marvelous big sister. I can’t wait until JJ grows up enough for them to play together! I can’t wait to see C’s eyes light up as she sees me, she gets very excited when I go there, and shows me all the toys that have taken her fancy that day. She’s such a lovely little girl, she’s very special to me, not to mention being the apple of her Grandma’s eye, she’s a lucky little girl.

Back to work for another night shift tonight, then a couple of fun shifts on the weekend, Saturday being the busiest day, I get another tab work mate, which is often hilarious, we have a lot of fun together between customers.

Really looking forward to my days off next week!!