I had approximately two hours of sleep last night.

I was very grumpy and a totall jerkwad to everyone who dared speak to me this morning.
Then I cried the whole way into work because I had been such a horrible person.

To top it all off? One of the kids I’m teaching today just crapped his pants. And guess who got to help him clean up?!

YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY.

1- I just had a nice steaming cup of Neo Citran (no-name brand from Superstore) even though if you have asthma you’re not supposed to have Neo Citran. I figure once every ten years is okay.

2- My oldest (and do I mean OLD! She’s SO MUCH OLDER than I am!) friend and I are talking on MSN. So far our conversation has run the gamut from scrapbooking, to the price of rent, to in-laws, to marriage, to uh, gas-passing, to what soap opera we would star in.

3- When washing a wig, one very important tool to have on hand is a salad spinner. I’m not joking.

Why is it that my body has decided to harbour the mother of all cold viruses (virusses? virusies? virus’s? cacti?) at the same time as my uterus is renewing its lining in that most mysterious of womanly ways? I’m past the sneezing part, anyway, and am at the entire head stuffed with cotton balls, unable to breathe through nose stage. Tonight I was teaching a french class and I swear my poor class, they’re going to be pronouncing things like a deaf moose if the way I was speaking tonight has any bearing on things.

In other news, people who work for collection agencies? Are big liars. And act like mean, mean people, too. I know it’s their job. It’s okay. But it’s silly to lie, because then you get caught, and then you… are still working a pretty crappy job at a collection agency which is probably punishment in and of itself.

This morning? Zombies ate my left arm.

With mustard. The good kind.

So on Tuesday morning, I fell out of bed. Quite a way to start the day.
Not only did I fall out of bed, but I fell on top of something. I’m not sure what that something was, as I was still asleep at the time, but I suspect either a video game controller or rocks. Huge rocks. Because it took awhile, but today? I have enormous bruises on my arse. Well, on my back, and my bum. And they hurt.
So life is going to be interesting, when I try to sit down or do… anything involving my hind end. Not that I do much that actually involves it, but I bring it with me wherever I go, so it’s just in danger all the time!
My poor danger-butt.

Read the rest of this entry →

I sometimes post on a message board that is full of interesting people who say interesting things.
Today (yesterday? yeah, sense of time? not so great) I asked if anyone on the board had blogs. Well, what I got back was like, 29 responses of people saying they don’t “get” the whole blog thing, that blogs are boring and self-centered and blah di blah.
Okay, so not EVERYONE said that, and it’s not like they were saying “Down with blogs!”
It just made me really open my eyes to how I can take so many things personally, and I really shouldn’t. I actually considered whether or not I was a big self-centred bore and should stop blogging and perhaps actually Go Outside and Do Good.

Yeah, right.

I just emailed this to Rob (from work! oh my goodness!):

“Oh My God. It’s worse than you could ever imagine. Remember Lord of the Flies? These kids are insane little tyrants who have never had any intention of listening to their teacher– and they’re only in Grade One! Their teacher’s off on stress leave– and I can believe it”.

I have ‘officially’ been hired to teach this class for this week, and possibly next. The thing is that I know that it’s a possibility that the principal will be asking me if I want to stay for an indefinite period of time, until the “real” teacher can come back. And I really, really don’t wanna.

I know, IT’S A JOB! JOBS = MONEY! But seriously? I don’t think I could handle this. Not that I fear the little first-graders. They’re already starting to behave way better than they were when I first got here (although one of them refused to button up her pants for like, half an hour today). More like I’m better with older kids (like, grade 2, at least) and have no idea about the first grade curriculum. Plus it’s like, an hour drive from home. Plus, well, there are periods of time when I am seriously unable to work. Because even though I’m doing Better, I’m not Completely Healed. But then I feel guilty! Shouldn’t I be jumping at every opportunity to work so that I can make money and not be a burden to everyone?

Someone said to me once that on my deathbed, I will never say “Oh, I wish I had gone to work more often!”.

Sure, maybe. But I *might* say “Gee, I hated all those years of living in a van down by the river”.

It’s 7:24 am. I’m leaving for work in six minutes.

I’ve been awake for three hours now.

What is with the messed up sleeping patterns? HUH?

Even though we

-don’t have a priest
-don’t have a church
-aren’t really sure if people can come
-don’t have any money at the moment

We still
-love each other very much
-will be getting married this summer.
- I KNOW THAT WE COULD JUST GET MARRIED BY A JUSTICE OF THE PEACE AND WHAT’S THE BIG DEAL ABOUT MAKING A BIG DEAL BUT DAMNIT I WANT A PARTY SO WILL SOMEONE JUST PLEASE HUMOUR ME?!

I’m super-cheap, though. Like, it annoys me to think of buying a bunch of froufrou things for the wedding and/or reception that we may never use again. Plus, I like making things myself. So if anyone out there is even considering giving me any type of gift, ever, between now and next August? Save up your old jars for me. Seriously, I mean it.

I’ve been buying beads and wire whenever I have been able to, but am having a hard time finding nice jars. I guess I should maybe go to the Salvation Army or something.

Meg is doing a wonderful job, helping out with our save-the-date/invitations.

My brother is making our wedding rings. They’re going to be beautiful.

I’m thinking about selling some of my knitting to raise a bit of cash so that we don’t have to get married in the basement of the Wellington Legion (and also so that I can buy my dress, dangit!) but I don’t know if people would ever even be interested in that.

And below the fold is like, weirdo soap-opera hairdo time. Read the rest of this entry →

We have found my pay.

I repeat. My pay has been located.

Well, a portion of it, anyway. It’s not the bank’s fault at all; more my employers’. And now, I begin to explain:

Before I moved from here to Halifax, I was employed, for a year, by the Bladibla Workplace. At that time, I had a bank account with Flooptifloo Bank. Bladibla Workplace had all my information so that they could deposit my pay into my Flooptifloo bank account. This was, of course, nearly five years ago.

In the interim, I moved to Halifax. When I moved to Halifax, I stopped banking with Flooptifloo Bank, because there were no branches of Flooptifloo Bank in Halifax. I opened an account with Hummana Bank and did all my banking through them. Except that I had to keep my Flooptifloo account open, in order to deal with my student loans. Other than that, there was absolutely nothing doing with Flooptifloo bank. I’ve not even really thought of that bank account as existing for about five years. Hummana Bank turned out to be a really sucky bank (or at least, the branch I dealt with was), so when we moved to PEI, Rob and I decided to make his account over at Dooptydoo (yes, a third!) bank a joint one, and that would be that.

Can you follow? Probably not. Oh well, though.

So when I started working again for Bladibla Workplace this year, I gave them all my bank account information for Dooptydoo bank. That is where my paycheques were supposed to be deposited. They had that information in their grubby little hands. Lo and behold, I wasn’t getting paid. I phoned Dooptydoo bank to see what the problem was, and they said that since my name had just barely been added to the account, they might have accidentally forgotten that I was on the account and refused to accept my paycheque the one time. Okay, well, that was two weeks ago. This time, when it didn’t work out, I phoned Dooptydoo bank, and Bladibla workplace, and had a great time practically having a nervous breakdown trying to figure out what to do because my parents can’t be expected to support me (I mean, in my line of work, it doesn’t really make much sense to refuse to work — I’m a substitute teacher. If I’m not available, there’s always someone else willing to work) and I need gas in order to get to work and it was making me insane.
Dooptydoo Bank, Bladibla Workplace, and I spent hours (hours!) on the phone. I was on hold. They were doing computer things. I was told that they would figure out what was going on and they would make sure I got all my pay in two weeks’ time. I yelled that THAT WASN’T GOOD ENOUGH! They got the picture.
Finally sometime after 3 pm (and please keep in mind that I’d been on the phone with one place or the other or both at once since 9 am), Bladibla Workplace phoned me.

“Louise! It’s Mrs. X at Bladibla Workplace! I found your money!”
“You did? What? Where is it?”
“It’s been deposited into your account at Flooptifloo Bank”.

Uhm, excuse me? Yeah. They had all my new, updated information. They just NEVER BOTHERED TO ENTER IT INTO THEIR COMPUTERS. So my pay? Had been going into this bank account that I haven’t used since Before The Dawn Of Time.

Of course, when I went and checked that account it turns out that there has been a huge withdrawal that I certainly didn’t make but by that time it was past 6 pm on Friday and the bank is closed until Monday so I’ll find out about that then. It might be my student loan or something, I dunno. But at least we know where the school board has been sending my money. I hollered at them to change their information and stop being such dumbasses. And, of course, I myself feel like several different kinds of fool.
But yeah.