todayiamadaisy (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
todayiamadaisy) wrote2019-05-31 10:45 pm
todayiamadaisy) wrote2019-05-31 10:45 pm
Entry tags:
So Many Women Are Taping Their MIDDLE TOES TOGETHER
I'm so glad this week is nearly over, f-list. It's been one thing after another. Which is how things normally happen, I suppose, but there does seem to have been a lot of them this week and all of varying degrees of stressfulness.
Monday to Wednesday we had a storm. Three days of bone-slicing wind and pounding hail, just to give everything an apocalyptic air.
Alistair had his annual vaccination last Friday, which always knocks him flat. He's all right now, I should say, but he spent four days sleeping, not eating or drinking, and generally looking sorry for himself. He's such a chatterbox, it's just not right to have him silent for four days. "I never thought I'd miss that racket," said my mother, "but the quiet is unnerving." I'm now expecting his whiskers to fall out, which is what happens whenever he gets stressed.
Monday afternoon my boss, who is in a different state to me, called to say he and the powers that be had decided not to renew the contract of one of my accounts officers when it finishes at the end of June. Nothing to do with his work, but restructuring. My boss said he'd do the deed, but I said i thought I should be there. So I had a sleepless night on Monday and felt sick all Tuesday until it finally happened. Not to make it all about me — it was far worse for the accounts assistant — but it was upsetting on a number of levels, from having to let go someone who does good work and whom I really like, to feeling let down by the powers that be. (I would have more to say about this, but in light of my company's policy on not talking about work on social media, just imagine me making a Marge Simpson grumble at the situation.)
I've spent all week trying to track down an EFTPOS banking terminal that was supposed to be delivered to a new shop that my work is opening in a town in another state. I called the bank to ask why it hadn't been delivered by the due date, and the guy said, "Oh, our system shows the courier tried to deliver it at seven a.m. on the day, but left as there was no-one there." Well, of course there wasn't. And what had they done with it then? Well... no-one could tell me. For four days! This one little EFTPOS machine was being driven around rural New South Wales and no-one knew where it was. Anyway, it turned up at the shop at ten this morning, which, as I said to shop manager when she rang to tell me, was legitimately the best news I had all week.
At home, I received an email on Wednesday that a parcel I was expecting had been delivered and "left in a safe space". Not my letterbox. Not the electricity meter box. Not at the back door. Even in the most idyllic weather, my front step couldn't be described as a safe space for a parcel, but this week, if any courier had been silly enough to leave it there, it would have been blown five streets away. So I looked online to see what to do about missing parcels and found Australia Post's definitions page, which defines "delivered" as: Great news, your parcel has been 'delivered'! I mean, yes. It was "delivered".
And my favourite work shoes have worn inners, so this afternoon I went and bought some new ones. They're quite cheerful, I suppose, so maybe things are looking up — but I think I've earned a lie-in tomorrow morning.
Monday to Wednesday we had a storm. Three days of bone-slicing wind and pounding hail, just to give everything an apocalyptic air.
Alistair had his annual vaccination last Friday, which always knocks him flat. He's all right now, I should say, but he spent four days sleeping, not eating or drinking, and generally looking sorry for himself. He's such a chatterbox, it's just not right to have him silent for four days. "I never thought I'd miss that racket," said my mother, "but the quiet is unnerving." I'm now expecting his whiskers to fall out, which is what happens whenever he gets stressed.
Monday afternoon my boss, who is in a different state to me, called to say he and the powers that be had decided not to renew the contract of one of my accounts officers when it finishes at the end of June. Nothing to do with his work, but restructuring. My boss said he'd do the deed, but I said i thought I should be there. So I had a sleepless night on Monday and felt sick all Tuesday until it finally happened. Not to make it all about me — it was far worse for the accounts assistant — but it was upsetting on a number of levels, from having to let go someone who does good work and whom I really like, to feeling let down by the powers that be. (I would have more to say about this, but in light of my company's policy on not talking about work on social media, just imagine me making a Marge Simpson grumble at the situation.)
I've spent all week trying to track down an EFTPOS banking terminal that was supposed to be delivered to a new shop that my work is opening in a town in another state. I called the bank to ask why it hadn't been delivered by the due date, and the guy said, "Oh, our system shows the courier tried to deliver it at seven a.m. on the day, but left as there was no-one there." Well, of course there wasn't. And what had they done with it then? Well... no-one could tell me. For four days! This one little EFTPOS machine was being driven around rural New South Wales and no-one knew where it was. Anyway, it turned up at the shop at ten this morning, which, as I said to shop manager when she rang to tell me, was legitimately the best news I had all week.
At home, I received an email on Wednesday that a parcel I was expecting had been delivered and "left in a safe space". Not my letterbox. Not the electricity meter box. Not at the back door. Even in the most idyllic weather, my front step couldn't be described as a safe space for a parcel, but this week, if any courier had been silly enough to leave it there, it would have been blown five streets away. So I looked online to see what to do about missing parcels and found Australia Post's definitions page, which defines "delivered" as: Great news, your parcel has been 'delivered'! I mean, yes. It was "delivered".
And my favourite work shoes have worn inners, so this afternoon I went and bought some new ones. They're quite cheerful, I suppose, so maybe things are looking up — but I think I've earned a lie-in tomorrow morning.