Another Day in Paradise



I am learning to not make plans about what I am going to get accomplished on a given day. It never works out.

I decide a head of time, before I even get to work, on the drive over while the morning DJs try to out Morning Zoo Crew each other, I decide, okay, today I' going to get that bin finished that I started yesterday and then I'll start on the last one. I should get that one done too. Then I can start on cleaning the office up. It's a mess.

Man Plans, God Laughs. I get about a quarter of the remaining bin taken care of. The phone rings, "did I get this request?" No, you got the request; it didn't come to me. "It's due now". So. I'm all ready off my schedule and it's only twenty after nine.

So I make the copies. This requires standing at the copy machine for hours. I think I have developed heel spurs. Standing hurts. Standing for hours is crippling. So I find a solution. I hobble over to an office chair and drag it back to the machine with me. Now I can sit. Sitting is good but the machine is too tall and I look like a child who needs a high chair and having to reach up every time to hold up the lid of the copier is uncomfortable. Okay. Change of plans. I kneel on the chair. This is much better. I am the right height and I am off my sore feet. It works quite well. I imagine that I look like some sort of chair/human hybrid . I look silly.

I am okay with the silly. I am not okay with the sore feet because I need those feet and if they are too sore I can't work. I can’t work I would have to spend my time playing with the computer at home. Unemployed . And thus homeless and they don't make extension cords long enough for me to be on the streets playing with my computer.

So.

I tell my boss that my feet hurt. She responds with sarcasm. She does however feel pity for me. Actually she says I am pitiful. I take pity where I can get it.

I am also thinking about workers comp. I am dreaming, but it's a nice dream. I told my boss when I had filers thumb that I was going to call workers comp. She responded with sarcasm.

I'm always glad that my pain can bring her joy. And sarcastic joy at that too.

If my boss wasn't laughing at my pain, I would then really have to go to Workers Comp and since I have been there in the past, I really do not want to have to go back there now. I bled on their floor and they still wanted to know why I didn't have an appointment. I explained I wasn't bleeding prior to now and I didn't need an appointment before now and now I was bleeding and I needed help. Or a Tetanus Shot or stitches or they could just give me a damn band aid and I could go back to work and have the nurses there treat me! Oh, that's right! We work in an office! We aren’t set up for critical care; the newest Band-Aids in our first aid box had solidified the other box held a fossilized ace bandage.

So.

My knees hurt from all the kneeling.