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Walking the dog
2005-01-04 - 11:15 a.m. Queenie is planning to move her trailer this week with her 2002 tax refund she just got (don't ask). Although she will not be able to get into it immediately (it needs wired, etc.), this is the first step toward getting her out of mi casa. My last few entries reflect my frustration over her staying with me for so damn many months. I should add that I don't display the same attitude toward her and her child as I describe in here. This diary is where I vent so I don't turn into a 3-headed, venom-spewing monster. I am polite to her, refraining from accusing her of having her head stuck up her ass. We have discussed her tendency toward self-absorption in the past. Her recent crises have actually caused an improvement in her attitude, believe it or not. When she was a corporate hotshot bringing in the 40k a year, she had no tolerance for those lesser mortals. Now that she is on a first-name basis with the Goodwill ladies and a member of the Foodstamp Club, she has the grace to be embarassed about her earlier attitude. So I tease her (gently) about it every now and then. She doesn't take offense. I really do like her, I'm just tired of living with other people. Work is still in limbo - haven't moved back to Alligator yet, so I'm going to get the computer, printer and fax and work at home for the rest of the week and maybe next. I should be able to get a lot accomplished. I have mondo piles of shit to do: client files, personnel files, reports, end-of-year mumbo-jumbo that needs to be turned in to the state. Gah. It's a bad time for the office to be out of commission, which is why I offered to work at home. Delaying this is only making me poorer and causing the stack of work to teeter precariously over my head. I'd rather work at a steady pace every day than be innundated all at once. Makes sense, no? I think I'm going to go walk the bh. It's already the 4th, and I've yet to do it. She's snoozing on the couch, all sprawled out obscenely on her back with her head and ears dangling over the edge, right beside the little Italian-looking dog. But all it would take would be me to say the words, "Get your leash!" and she would be all over me like white on rice. The basset loves outings, as she has learned to equate them with belly rubs. She's an attention whore, and a hell of a goodlooking basset hound. The hell with me, we go somewhere, people are all like, "Look at that dog!" Everybody says they've never seen a basset that big. She is a bit chubby, but she's a big freakin' basset, especially for a female. And she's just a hunka hunka burnin' love. So let's go already. �
still here - 2009-12-18
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