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Talked to Santa Pete yesterday.  He *usually* calls on Friday, but he's been feeling a bit under the weather lately.  I've not been in the mood for company (actually, all I'm in the mood for lately is sleep and staring mindlessly off into space) and I figured he'd call when he called.  Heck, there's always the possibility that his Friday night supper club ended up extending into Saturday morning, then a long afternoon of chess and questionable internet searches with The Hippie--which, thankfully, The Hippie learned can only be done on HIS computer, because I was getting tired of having to fix Pete's computer and discover what two aging, horny hippies look at on the internet in the process.  I'm not a prude, but there are some things you just DON'T WANT TO KNOW about your friends.

Anyway, no.  Not the case.  The doc found more squamous cell carcinoma on his arm, which meant more surgery.  Time has a funny way of collapsing on me, so I want to say this is the third time in a year this has happened.  Maybe 18 months?  Regardless, too many, too close together.

I'm so, so worried.  But I'm also coming to some realizations.

So he's home, and loopy, and on pain meds, and depressed.  He's home, which is--IMHO--less ideal than him being in the hospital.  He's a bit of a spoiled brat, and if his surroundings aren't meticulous, he gets pissed because he doesn't have a maid or a wife (yes, really.  He says it that way). Given the way the buses run and my current schedule, the earliest I can get out to see him is Saturday after work.  And I will damn sure bring him food and tidy up a bit, but he has let it be known he finds my housekeeping skills a bit sub-par.

I love Pete, but he is demanding.  And he doesn't even realize he's doing it.  I'm just working on not feeling guilty.  There's only so much I can do and so many hours in the day, and work is beating me up pretty bad.  I'm not sure what we're doing wrong that we've had TWO(!!!!) people quit after a single shift, but I was on duty for both and...the shifts weren't that bad.  There was the usual mind boggling moments--no, we can't cater a lunch for 45 IN AN HOUR.  Ummmm...a salad and a Diet Coke?  Yeah, we can "cater" that, but it will be a $15 delivery fee...across the street--but no major sports teams, no conference groups, no busloads of tourists   *shrugs*  But the more people who quit, the more hours I get...but I am starting to run a bit ragged.  Some days, this means I'm doing everyone's sidework (which ain't just rolling silverware).  Or staying three hours after.  Or, or, or....

Today was a mess.  Big Boss is off helping do training at another store, so I'm left with Manager Tightpants and Good Time Charlie.  Goddess help me.

I've just got to make it through until 3pm Saturday. I can do this...


( 5 comments — Leave a comment )
Sep. 1st, 2016 09:18 am (UTC)
Here's a hug to give you strength *hugs*
Sep. 1st, 2016 09:25 am (UTC)
Sorry to hear about Santa Pete.

I am feeling a lot like you as of late. Sleep and just staring into space is what I wanna do.
Sep. 1st, 2016 09:51 am (UTC)
Hope it all goes well for Pete - so that there is no further hospital visits or stays or repeated surgery needs.

Sep. 1st, 2016 02:49 pm (UTC)
:( Hang in there -- that sounds amazingly difficult. It sucks when you need to be two places at once and just can't be.
Sep. 1st, 2016 03:53 pm (UTC)
You can do this! ♥
( 5 comments — Leave a comment )


The fucking YARN FAIRY!

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