Stepping Over

Here it is at the end of March and I can attest that it came in like a lion. The first week of March alone had me in and out of bed with migraines.  The added Magnesium I’ve been taking is helping, but the weather was just too tough for me to battle.

Speaking of battles, why do people have to be so obstinate? Lately, I can’t have a conversation with someone without being shut down.  It’s truly like talking to bricks, one-sided and very hard.   I obviously have something to say; I’m saying it in an intelligent manner and I’m saying it somewhat nicely (depending on the subject manner).  I would expect, when speaking with other intelligent beings that I would be able to finish a sentence before I’m spoken over, ignored or basically told to shut up.

Whatever. I’m waiting here at the end of the month for it to go out like a lamb.  I need a little calmness and serenity in my life.

I didn’t get much calmness and serenity these last few days with Zombiegirl’s 17th birthday the day before Easter. I was cooking and cleaning and wrapping and decorating for days.  Seventeen.  Damn. This year has and will be all about driving lessons and SATs and college fairs and boyfriends and prom dresses and college classes and mono and Varsity sports and Sportsmanship awards and Chipotle and The Witch’s Brew.  It’s a lot, Junior year.  And I know Senior year is going to be much busier.

That is why I’ve decided to leave my hobby job. Even though I loathed getting ready for it, I loved it the minute I walked  in the door.  I’ll miss the little extra cash I earned (so little after I satisfied my weird obsession with fabric) and I’ll miss (most) of the people that worked there.  I’ll also miss the very creative and talented customers who were always willing to tell me what they were working on, or bring projects back into the store specifically to show me what they made.  I won’t miss the conflicting and contradictory methods of management  or the aggravation of discovering empty product packaging (why buy a pack of needles when you can break open the pack and take one?)  I definitely won’t miss the constant cleaning up of misplaced items or half eaten candy bars.  I won’t miss the passive-aggressive notes left for us by management or the suspicion that one of our fellow workers would steal from us.  I won’t miss any softball or soccer games or dinners with my family and I’ll get my life back.

What the heck will I do with all my time?  <snort>

One foot in March and the other foot stepping lightly into April- springtime, renewal, simple times, that’s what I’m anticipating.

 

 

 

 

 

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