Bad Blogger! Bad Bad Bad Blogger!
I think I have pulled down my business hat so tightly over my ears that I have no time to lament about how much life sucks.
I guess that could actually be a good thing. Although I suspect it will all come crashing down any minute now and drowned me in internal fears, insecurities and my own bowel waste.
After giving my old assistant the boot, I've been scrambling to make up for the shit she was supposed to be doing and was not, as well as correcting the shit she was working on but fucking up. If nothing else, each day I feel less bad about firing her useless ass. As a matter of fact, firing was much too good for her. I should have publically humiliated her by tying her inefficient ass to the conference table and have her coworkers lob rotten bananas and horse manure at her.
At least all is dyfunctionally normal on the home front.
In the past three day, SCM has bashed his head against inanimate objects exactly twice. He is walking around with two huge bruises on his noggin and a dazed and confused look on his face. Even more than usual.
Does the fact that this cracks me up make me a bad person? In my defense, I did check on him in the middle of the night after the first injury to make sure he wasn’t dead of a brain hemorrhage. Oh, and I was barely even disappointed when I acknowledged the fact that he was still breathing.
Number one son is getting the fuck out of my house a couple of weeks to make his way in the world. Of course he made sure he was still able to come for meals and to drop off his laundry. Being independent is one thing but there is no reason to be extreme!
He was a bit insulted when I started taping paint chips to his bedroom wall in anticipation of redecorating the room that will become my new home office.
“But wait, what if I need to come back?”
Love ya kiddo, not an option.
Did you ever feel like you could do no wrong and everything you touch will just turn to gold?
Yeah, me neither.
Have a good one kids.
8 comments:
Glad he is finally getting out. Even more glad you are turning his room into an office. But... okay, I'll sleep on the couch.
With regards to your assistant, OHM has learned over the years that bosses typically don't fire bad employees, the people do it to themselves. Fuck them.
When Cameron moved out (the first time..ahem) I was SO excited and had so many plans for his room. I felt more sad when he moved out the 2nd time because during the first move out to the 2nd move in, he grew up so much it was a pleasure to have him home....NEARLY!!!!!! I haven't lost my mind that much! ;)
but, chris, you didnt tell whats up with his magnificent, perfect girlfriend!! will they be living together? (to your knowledge? you may not know til you see her underwear's in his laundry!)
& i'm glad you're rid of the inefficient assistant...but i REALLY like your idea of how to get rid of her!! i laughed & spit all over my computer when i read that! (attractive, huh?)...but i know that was your goal, wasnt it??
I love a good rant, so it looks like I'll be back to visit often. All the things I'd like to say but don't.
My daughter and future SIL and their baby... that gorgeous grandson of mine... are looking for a house. So my younger kid has dibs on their room which used to be my craft studio. So much for me actually ever having a place to earn a few extra bucks and do something other than cook and clean. Well, since blogging started I haven't done much of those things.....
So okay, I'll take his small room. It has a door and I can SHUT it.
Counting the days....
Thanks for visiting my blog. Come over anytime.
Hey, I told you that you should hire me as your new personal assistant. I would be great at whatever the hell the job is. ;-)
Wow, he is moving out, huh? I remember when my first one moved out. He was the same age as yours when he left. It was weird for a while.
That weird feeling goes away pretty fast though when you clean up the room and get to use it for yourself. Have fun redecorating!
Have you not thought of conning him into painting the room? Maybe it's not impossible.
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